The Dragon in the Box
by RebeccaFoxx
Summary: The Doctor and Donna find themselves in an alternate universe where the world of the great Sherlock Holmes is a reality. But when Sherlock finds out what The Doctor truly is, he is forced to ask him for help with his most puzzling case yet. The AU Dragon Who is used, and if you don't know what it is, you can find it here!
1. Two in the Morning

**Hey everyone, just a note from the author! For those of you who don't know what Dragon Who is, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND you check it out, as it is going to be a major part of the story. I will try to update whenever I can, and reviews are always appreciated! Anyway, that's enough from me. Enjoy the story!**

"And you're SURE it's safe?" The Doctor smiled lopsidedly as he heard her repeat the question for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Yes Donna, it's fine. I'm right here if you need me." She nodded and took a step toward the console. The Doctor had decided that she might enjoy flying the TARDIS on her own for once, as he was usually the one to do it. They had picked modern-day London as their destination, and were just preparing to take off. He shuffled his claws and craned his long neck over her shoulder. Donna looked over in his direction and jumped when she saw the dragon.

"That," she mumbled."is going to take some getting used to." The Doctor shook his head and chuckled at her remark before sitting upright on his haunches, waiting for her to make her first move. She shook her head before turning back to the controls, wiggling her fingers in the air above the various buttons and levers. She fixed her gaze on a lever before taking a deep breath and pulling it into the downwards position. The TARDIS started shaking, Donna looked to The Doctor for help, and he nodded encouragingly. (As encouragingly as you can as a dragon, of course) She gave him a shaky smile before continuing to fiddle with the controls, her confidence growing with each move she made. He watched her work, knowing that she was fine on her own. He let himself drift off, thinking about when she learned of his true form. She wasn't exactly happy that he'd hidden it from her, but she was getting used to it. He was also having to get used to it again, as he had used his human projection for the most part in his current regeneration. He was snapped back into reality by Donna letting out a panicked shout as the TARDIS shook violently. "Doctor!" He was at her side in an instant, peering closely at the monitor.

"What did you do exactly?" He asked, trying to keep his tone patient. She stepped back from the controls.

"I did everything exactly like we practiced and was about to hit the last button when it went flippin' berserk!" The TARDIS slammed to one side, and Donna slammed into the ground. The Doctor dug his claws into the floor to stay upright, wrapping his tail around one of the pillars for balance. He threw himself back at the controls, growling in a frustrated manner.

"It's like we're getting thrown into an alternate universe!" The TARDIS made a wheezing sound, almost like it was trying its best to land. Donna hauled herself back to her feet, using The Doctor's mane as a way of supporting herself.

"Sorry..." She mumbled. The Doctor turned to her and smiled before going back at the controls.

"This wasn't your fault, just circumstances that's all! The TARDIS probably wants us to be here, though I can't see why..." She nodded, relieved that she hadn't done anything wrong. The Doctor let out a roar of frustration and smacked the console with his tail, "GAHHHHHH, Nothing's working!" In a last-ditch attempt to land the TARDIS, he pushed down a huge button with a talon, and was surprised when it ACTUALLY worked. Donna looked equally as shocked and the two of them shared a stunned look.

"Are we good?" She asked, looking hopeful. The Doctor closely examined the monitor, looking for anything worrying, but found nothing.

"Think so." Donna turned towards the doors,

"Ready?" The Doctor grinned,

"Allons-y!"

Sherlock Holmes was having a boring day. Boring with a capital B. Not one single murder had happened recently, meaning that he had nothing to do. He recounted the morning as he walked.

 **BANG!**

"SHERLOCK!"

 **BANG! BANG! BANG!**

John stormed into Sherlock's study and snatched the revolver out of his hands, throwing it against the wall. "IT'S TWO IN THE FLIPPIN' MORNING!"

"I was aware of that John."

"Then why are you shooting a bloody revolver!?" Sherlock slumped into his chair.

"Bored." John shook his head angrily, and stormed out of the room only to return a second later with the detective's coat.

"You." He threw the coat over his friend's shoulders. "Are going for a walk. RIGHT NOW." Sherlock was a little confused by this, but pulled on the coat anyway.

"Why?"

"WHY!? I'll tell you why! Because you woke everyone up a two in the morning with a revolver!"

"But walks are boring." He insisted. John grabbed his scarf and tossed it to Sherlock before pushing him towards the door.

"Maybe you'll see a break in, and then you can investigate that!" He tied on his scarf and crossed his arms against his chest.

"Fine."

And that was how he found himself going for a walk at two in the morning. He walked down the foggy London streets, his coat flapping at his ankles. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, he hadn't expected it to be so cold. Almost nobody else was outside, London was all his. He casually picked an alleyway to turn down, really not caring where he ended up. That's when he heard it, quietly at first but steadily growing louder.

 _VWORP_

 _VWORP_

 _ **VWORP**_

Sherlock looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. He suddenly saw a blue flash of light coming from further down the alley. He crept toward the light, being careful to tread softly. He rounded the corner and was surprised to see... A phone booth? He squinted at it, a little bit confused by its presence. It was painted a deep blue, and the light atop it was flashing to create the light he had seen from around the corner. He strode closer to it, putting a hand on the painted wood. He walked around it, inspecting it from all sides. It really did appear just to be a phone booth. Nothing more. He had just turned on his heel to leave when all of a sudden...

*click*

Sherlock hastily sprang behind a bin, knowing that sound could only mean someone had opened the box from the inside. He peered over the pile of rubbish and watched the box attentively. A red haired woman casually strode out of it, probably in her late thirties. She was wearing a set of hoop earrings and a brown coat. Her eyes darted around and she did a quick lap around the box before knocking on the door.

"The coast is clear." Sherlock's breath caught in his throat as he beheld the creature that stepped from the box. It was about the size of a horse and it stood on four legs. Brown scales were plastered all over its body with a few rows of light blue ones and a white underbelly. Two large ears stood upright on its head and a rather thick mane ran down its back. It swished its tail and took a few steps closer to the bin where Sherlock was hiding.

"It looks like London!" It remarked, its voice resonating from deep within its chest. "We actually made it to London!" The female laughed,

"Yeah, I guess we did!" The beast started walking past the bin, "Oi, forgetting something?" It looked confused, looking down at itself and examining all its features closely. She face-palmed."Your projection stupid." It barred its teeth in what Sherlock thought was a grin before closing its brown eyes in concentration. It suddenly became fuzzy around the edges, and then disappeared entirely. A man stood in its place with much the same hair.

"Better?" He asked. She nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

"Much." He straightened his tie and held out his arm to her.

"Shall we?" The pair of them linked arms and walked away, leaving Sherlock speechless.

 ** _Today just got a lot more interesting..._**


	2. New Tenants

**Chapter two! WOOT-WOOT! Updates probably won't always be this fast, but I've had a lot of spare time recently and decided to spend it working on this! Reviews and suggestions are always appreciated, as I still have to decide on the alien threat... :)**

Sherlock waited until they had rounded a corner before retreating from his hiding place. He tailed behind them, trying his best not to seem suspicious. He wanted to avoid a direct confrontation, that was for sure. But he also knew he should keep an eye on them, not knowing what they might do. They were chatting quietly, and the man was gesturing wildly, his brown coat flapping in the breeze. Sherlock couldn't quite make out the words, which meant he was going to have to get closer if he wanted to figure out what they were saying. The man suddenly turned, and Sherlock froze mid step.

"Excuse me, but do you happen to know where to find flat 221C?" He asked, his voice cheery. Sherlock nodded and forced a smile, trying his best to stay calm.

"Yes, I believe I do." The female let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, you are a lifesaver! And here I thought we'd end up runnnin' around London for the better part of the day!" Sherlock started walking back toward the flat, but he made sure to take the longest route. The man strode along beside him, and Sherlock eyed him closely. He had a slight indent on the bridge of his nose, so he must wear glasses at least some of the time. He walked at a rather brisk pace, and his shoes were quite worn, probably a good runner. He turned to Sherlock and smiled lopsidedly, sticking out his hand.

"I'm The Doctor by the way." Sherlock delicately shook his hand,

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes." The woman let out a snort of laughter,

"Oh yeah? And I'm the wizard of Oz!" The Doctor looked relatively startled, nudging her slightly with his elbow. She furrowed her brow and he mouthed the words I'll explain later Before turning back to Sherlock.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr Holmes!" Sherlock just nodded at that, carefully studying the movements of 'The Doctor' The woman cleared her throat to break the silence,

"So, I've heard you're a detective then?" The Doctor shot her a warning glance, but she just ignored it.

"Yes, quite. And what exactly are the two of you, as I can see you aren't a couple." She smiled at that.

"I think you may be the first person who didn't think we were married." The Doctor nodded to affirm this, chuckling quietly to himself. Sherlock started to smile but stopped himself, remembering that one of them was a dangerous beast in disguise. He quickened his pace, knowing that the flat was just up the block.

"We travel together." Sherlock narrowed his eyes,

"Whereabouts?" The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair.

"Everywhere, we've been all over the place really."

"How interesting..." Sherlock shifted his focus to The Doctor's companion, "I don't think I caught your name."

"Oh, Donna Noble." He surveyed her character, taking in every detail he could. She looked a little tired, and she was falling behind a bit. Her coat was partially done-up, but a couple buttons were in the wrong holes.

"Why were you in such a hurry earlier?" He inquired. Donna looked taken aback by his question, but was quick to recover.

"None of your business." She snapped, coming up alongside The Doctor. Sherlock resisted the urge to smile, knowing her outburst meant he was right. They came to the front of the flat, and Sherlock pointed to the door next to his.

"That would be it, and if you'll excuse me, I'll be off." Before either The Doctor or Donna could get a word in, he threw open the door and retreated to his study, a little bit shaken by what he had just experienced.

* * *

The Doctor watched him go, a little bit puzzled by his odd behavior. Something must've unnerved him, but what? He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Donna knocking on the front door, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the door was pulled open.

"Oh, you must be here to check out the flat then! Come in! Come in!" She ushered them inside, taking their coats and hanging them up. "I'm Mrs Hudson, the landlady here." The Doctor looked around at his surroundings, it was a quaint little place. It looked freshly cleaned as well, not a speck of dust in sight. "It's just your basic flat, one bedroom, kitchen, bathroom... Just don't mind the neighbors."

"Why would we worry about the neighbors?" Asked Donna, closely inspecting the patterned wallpaper. She fiddled with the hem on her dress,

"Well, you may hear gunshots at ungodly hours of the morning, but I can assure you that it's perfectly legal, they're with the police." The Doctor turned to her,

"Is that so! Well, so are we!" She smiled at that.

"That's quite the coincidence!" The Doctor took Dona's arm,

"Can we have a minute?" He asked, Mrs Hudson nodded.

"Oh of course! Would you fancy a cup of tea?" Donna smiled,

"That'd be lovely, thanks!" The second she had left the room, Donna turned to The Doctor, her arms folded across her chest.

"I don't see why we can't just stay in the TARDIS..." The Doctor ran his fingers along the wall absentmindedly.

"We can move the TARDIS into the flat, we just need to appear to be regular people for a while." Donna stifled a laugh. "What?"

"You!? A NORMAL person!? Are you serious?!" The Doctor frowned,

"I can be normal when I want to be..."

"You're a bloody space-dragon!"

"Yeah, but you didn't figure that out until I showed you." Donna sighed exasperatedly.

"Fine. We'll take the flat." The Doctor grinned,

"I knew you'd come around, and besides, how bad can it be?" Donna mumbled something under her breath and shifted her feet on the floor. Mrs Hudson came back into the room, holding a tray with five cups of steaming tea. The Doctor moved to hold the door, and she smiled.

"Oh, thank you kindly!" The Doctor nodded and cleared his throat.

"We'll take it!" She looked between him and Donna,

"Oh, that's wonderful! I'm sure you'll just love it!" A sudden gunshot caused Donna to jump, and The Doctor looked around nervously. Mrs Hudson sighed and set the tea down before heading upstairs, shaking her head slightly. The Doctor and Donna shared a glance before following her up,

"What exactly was that?" Asked Donna. Mrs Hudson smiled weakly.

"That'd be Sherlock." She knocked on the door, and it was answered by a man with sandy-blonde hair and brown eyes. He looked rather exasperated,

"I confiscated it, but he's gone and found it again. We should have a dragon guard that thing!" Donna nudged The Doctor at the use of the word dragon, and he just shook his head.

"Not a dragon." He whispered to her.

"Whatever you say." She shot back. The man in the doorway suddenly seemed to notice the pair standing behind Mrs Hudson.

"Who're your friends?" He asked. Mrs Hudson smiled,

"They're moving in downstairs at 221C." The Doctor gave a friendly wave, and Donna smiled. Another BANG echoed around the building. The man at the door turned on his heel and stormed into the room.

"SHERLOCK!" Mrs Hudson followed him in, and The Doctor was about to as well when Donna grabbed his sleeve.

"Tread carefully Lizard-Boy." The Doctor grinned,

"When do I not?"

"Do you want a list?" He held the door open for Donna to step through, and she jumped at yet another BANG. Sherlock was sitting in a rather nice armchair, and was pointing a revolver at a smiley-face painted on the wall. He took one look at The Doctor and set the revolver on the table. The man who had opened the door offered his hand to The Doctor.

"Hi I'm John Watson." The Doctor shook his hand firmly,

"The Doctor." John looked a little confused.

"Just 'The Doctor'?" He nodded,

"Yup!"

"Don't get him started on his name." Donna injected, "Trust me on that." John smiled and gestured to the table.

"Care to sit down?" Donna slumped into a chair, and The Doctor remained standing. Mrs Hudson passed out tea to everyone before heading back downstairs with her cup. John looked toward Donna, "And you are?"

"Donna Noble, late thirties, was in quite a rush earlier today." Answered Sherlock. John sighed heavily,

"He always does this, he did it to me when we first met too." Sherlock eyed her closely.

"You don't have any pets and don't particularly enjoy running, though you've been doing quite a lot of it since you met him." Donna looked dumbfounded,

"How...?"

"Your coat, this morning, some of the buttons were in the wrong holes and you walked slower than The Doctor and I, meaning that you were probably already running around today."

"Hold on," Interrupted Watson, "You've met them already?"

"Yes, met them on my walk after you kicked me out, do try to keep up John."

"But I thought you said you'd me-" Sherlock gave John a warning glare to silence him before returning to his explanation.

"The age was mostly a guess based on height and appearance, and you don't have any claw marks or fur on your clothes, meaning that the only pet you'd have would be a fish, so that was a guess as well. And besides, most people who travel don't have pets. The fact that you don't like running was easily deductible, your shoes don't look like they were made for moving around all that quickly, but they are incredibly scuffed up meaning that you have been running." Donna stared at him, wide eyed.

"That's bloody insane!"

"No, it's simple deduction. As for you Doctor..." The Doctor tensed up a little when Sherlock fixed his steely gaze on him, unsure of just how much he'd be able to figure out. "You care about her a lot more than you let on, though you only think of her as a friend. You run quite frequently and you wear glasses some of the time." The Doctor was about to smile, as nothing that important about him had been revealed, but he was shocked by what Sherlock said next. "You've seen a lot of wars, and you've done many things you regret. You are older than you look and aren't from anywhere around here, though you do rather like London. Only a few people know who you really are and you don't reveal your true colors easily." The Doctor felt his hearts speed up, he had underestimated Sherlock, that was for sure.

"Care to tell me how you knew?" Sherlock stood to face him and held eye contact as he spoke.

"The second I started telling you things about her, you looked worried. This would suggest that you care what happens to her. But not enough to slow down on our walk, which means you can't be lovers. As for the glasses, you have a slight indent on the bridge of your nose which I spotted during the walk. Your shoes, like hers, are rather scuffed, but they were made for running which suggests that you know you run a lot."

"And the wars?"

"You tensed up when I started talking about you, so you clearly have some secrets. Your traveling companion jumped when I fired the gun, but you didn't meaning that you have heard the sound of bullets on more than one occasion. You have the eyes of someone who's seen too much and everyone regrets at least one thing in their lifetime. You say you travel a ton but you do, however, have an accent which means you are here often enough to keep it. Does that cover everything?" The Doctor thought over what he just heard,

"Everything except for the fact that I don't show many who I really am. And that I'm not from London." Sherlock broke eye contact, and sat back down in his chair, leaning his head into his hands.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." Watson eyed The Doctor suspiciously, "Oh relax, I don't think he's dangerous John." Donna smirked at that.

"He's about as threatening as a kitten with a Santa hat." The Doctor looked at her with mock offense.

"Oi! Kittens can be very threatening!" John chuckled slightly and became a bit friendlier after that, but Sherlock was careful to keep a close eye on The Doctor. He didn't know why The Doctor was there, which irked him to no end, but he knew it couldn't be a good thing.


	3. Back in Action

**Hello again, and welcome back to my little fic! Sorry if this chapter seems dull compared to the others, but I can guarantee that things will get a LOT more interesting in the next one, promise! See you soon with chapter four, review if you liked it, follow if you loved it!**

* * *

 **TEN MINUTES LATER...**

The Doctor was sprawled across the bed, deep in thought. His tail was swishing across the floor in a steady rhythm, and Donna knew it was best not to interrupt him. He rolled onto his back and stretched his four legs into the air.

"How did he know?" Donna flopped onto the couch and propped her feet up on the cushions, mentally preparing herself for the oncoming barrage of questions.

"About what?"

"The fact that I'm not what I seem." Donna tried to think of any telltale signs he had given, but he had seemed the same as when she met him for the first time. Yeah, he was a bit odd, but she had no doubt he was somewhat human. She probably would've thought him more human if she hadn't materialized into his spaceship, but that had proven to be unavoidable.

"You still haven't explained how he's real ya'know..." The Doctor turned his head toward her, his mane flipped to one side.

"It's an alternate universe, and in this one, the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle seem to be a reality to some extent."

"Any real reason for that?"

"There are thousands of alternate universes, at least one of them has to hold the world of Sherlock Holmes! That still doesn't explain how he knew though..."

"Have you met him before?"

"Nope, this'd be a first. I did meet Sir Doyle though, lovely man, extraordinarily clever brain."

"Did he see you in the alleyway?"

"I don't think so..." He didn't sound too sure of himself though, one ear twitching a little.

Donna frowned suddenly.

"Can you stop swishing your tail? You're leaving fur everywhere!" The Doctor looked somewhat offended.

"I don't shed! And I've already told you that being in my natural state helps me think!" Donna stood up and strode over to him, her arms crossed against her chest.

"Off." She commanded.

"I'm not a dog..." Donna glared at him, causing him to sigh dramatically before rolling off the bed. She snatched the top sheet off the covers and shook it. Little brown hairs flew from it, drifting to the floor like snow. The Doctor's ears drooped and he shuffled over to the couch, dragging his tail across the floor.

"Oh don't you get sulky on me!" He blew out a lungful of air and closed his eyes. Donna watched him for a while, and smiled slightly when a soft snore rumbled from his chest. She gently grabbed the blanket and threw it over his shoulders, even though she knew he would probably wake up once she did so. Sure enough, he rolled over and opened one eye a crack, grinning toothily at her.

"Thanks." He mumbled, sinking his head into the arm of the couch. Donna laid back on the bed, too tired to change into her pajamas. She shut her eyes, drifting off into a peaceful sleep. She woke up to the sound of him pacing, his tail knocking into the couch every time he passed it. She felt a pressure on her left side and smiled as a blanket was pulled over her, The Doctor's breath tickling her ear. He thumped back onto the floor and the couch made a noise of protest when the dragon rested his weight on it. She could tell he was still thinking hard, and his tail twitched every so often. She sat up in bed, and The Doctor lazily looked in her direction.

"You do realize we both fell asleep in the middle of the day, right?" The Doctor yawned, showing off an impressive set of fangs.

"They think we got up early, it's perfectly normal for us to have taken a nap." Donna nodded sleepily before snuggling back into the blankets, letting sleep take her.

* * *

Sherlock sat in his easy-chair, his fingers pressed against his temples. John sat across from him, reading the paper. He suddenly stood bolt upright and started pacing. John lowered the paper and looked at him with interest.

"What is it? Still worried about that Doctor bloke?" Sherlock stopped and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Did anything about him seem... Off to you?" John frowned and furrowed his brow.

"Well, he seemed rather nice overall." He stated. Sherlock groaned in frustration.

"That's what he WANTS you to think!"

"What do yo-" Sherlock cut him off mid sentence.

"I think he's psychotic John!" This took him by surprise,

"You said he wasn't dangerous though!" Sherlock chuckled hollowly at that,

"To make him lower his guard!"

"So he IS dangerous?" Sherlock frowned slightly,

"If he is, he's not going to openly show us, though I am willing to bet that Donna Noble knows exactly what he's hiding." John folded the paper and set it down on his lap.

"How can you be sure?"

"Oh, just a feeling." John raised his eyebrows, he knew Sherlock well, and he usually was eager to tell him how he knew.

"And I thought you said you met an alien earlier today, not The Doctor and Donna." Sherlock stopped pacing and looked John straight in the eyes.

"I don't think he's a human John." John said not a word, knowing that Sherlock wasn't to be argued with.

"Why not? I mean, sure, he's a bit weird, but that doesn't automatically make him an alien." Sherlock hesitated, not sure what to tell him. He finally decided not to tell him exactly what he saw.

"Just... Be careful of him John, no matter what he is, he can't be good news. And I'm not sure if Donna's normal either, but I'm pretty sure he's got her fooled."

He was about to ask another question when Sherlock's phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the number, muttering, "It's Lestrade." Before picking it up. He was only on the phone for a few minutes before hanging up and pulling his coat off the rack.

"What was that about?" Sherlock seemed rather excited,

"Murder John! Finally! Something more interesting than a new tenant!" Sherlock tied his scarf around his neck, practically buzzing with excitement. John brushed aside his thoughts of The Doctor and followed his friend out the door.

Sherlock waved his hand in the air, "TAXI!" He hollered. A cab pulled up on the curb and the pair of them hopped in. He told the cabbie the address before turning to John to explain the situation. "A man has been found dead, and according to Lestrade he was electrocuted, quite violently it seems." John nodded along to the story,

"How long of a drive?" Sherlock positioned himself to look out the window.

"About twenty minutes." They sat in silence, and John felt his mind wandering to The Doctor, thinking about how exactly he could be dangerous. He didn't doubt Sherlock often, but an alien seemed far-fetched, even for him. The visit had gone remarkably well, and he had truly seemed to be a friendly man, even if he was a bit odd. John turned to his partner, noting that he seemed on-edge.

"Why do you think he's not human?" He asked, Sherlock sighed and leaned back in the seat.

"I saw something, something that you won't believe." John folded his hands in his lap. He had been on some pretty crazy adventures with Sherlock in the past, and trusted him to tell the truth.

"Try me."

"Well, you remember how I said I met them earlier today?" John nodded. "I saw them both walk out of a blue police box."He bit his lip in an attempt not to smile. Sherlock, however, noticed this and frowned. "I sound crazy, don't I?"

"A little bit." Admitted John, "But do continue."

"Donna stepped out of it first, did a lap around to see if anyone was there, and then knocked on the door."

"Wait, hold on. How did she not see you?"

"I was hiding behind a bin." John chuckled at the mental image of Sherlock cowering behind a bin. Sherlock scowled and turned back to the window, unimpressed by John's inability to stay serious.

"Oh, c'mon! At least finish! What happens next?" Sherlock kept his eyes focused out the window.

"It was about the size of a horse John, with brown and blue scales, and a long tail that swished behind it." John furrowed his brow, confused by the statement.

"What was?"

"The creature that came out behind her!" John cocked his head, trying to align the facts in an order that made sense to him.

"So a creature the size of a horse came out of a police box? How is that even possible?"

"Would you let me finish, please!?" He snapped. John was surprised by his sudden outburst and just nodded. Sherlock sighed, "Thank you. Now, it also had two large ears and a mane that stuck up in all directions. It spoke to Donna about how they had actually made it to London, and then it transformed into our tenant."

"Were you under the influence of drugs?" Asked John, knowing that he had some unhealthy habits. Sherlock shook his head,

"No, you confiscated them, remember? Said it was bad for my health..."

"Yes, but I ALSO confiscated the revolver, and you found that rather quickly." The cab pulled to a stop on a street corner,

"Ready?" Asked Sherlock. John nodded, and together they stepped out onto the cold concrete, both of them more than just a little excited to be back in action.


	4. Interrogations

**Hello! It's me, the author! Terribly sorry about the break between chapter uploads, I've just been really busy. They should be coming out more often, I just need to figure out an update schedule. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Lestrade was standing at the door, tapping his foot impatiently. He stopped when he saw the two stride out of the cab. "Body's upstairs." John nodded, and Sherlock practically floated up the stairs. He pulled open the door with a flourish. The body lay sprawled across the floor, one arm propped at an odd angle. His head was turned slightly toward the door, his terrified expression staying with him in death. Sherlock knelt next to it, drawing his magnifying glass from his pocket. "He was found just before two by his neighbor who had heard the commotion from next-door." John shot Sherlock a worried glance at the mention of two, as that had been when he had ran into the man whom he claimed was an alien. Sherlock stood, now inspecting the room.

"What kind of commotion?"

"According to them, someone screaming one word over and over again in a weird voice. They said it sounded something like a megaphone or a toy robot. They couldn't quite make out the word though." Sherlock nodded, running his fingers along the blue and white striped wallpaper. He pulled his fingers away and rubbed them together, dust coating his fingertips.

"He was in his early twenties, unmarried and un-engaged. No pets, and new in the neighborhood. He wasn't helpless though, meaning his attacker was either agile or had a powerful weapon, a taser perhaps." Lestrade nodded carefully.

"Okay, I already know that the age thing is more of an estimate. But how did you kn-"

"Know that he's new? Simple. Look around!" Boxes were littered across the flat with a few stray pieces of furniture scattered throughout. It was also incredibly dusty, the light filtering in through the open window making it look like they were standing inside of a snowglobe.

"Alright, but how did the killer get in?" Sherlock paced to the window and looked down the side of the building, careful not to disturb the boxes.

"Well, the window WAS open, but there aren't any footholds leading up to it... Was the door locked?"

"Yeah, the neighbor just had a key in case of emergency. Y'know, fires and such." John was suddenly struck with a thought.

"Could the neighbor have done it then? I mean, he had a key and all. It would have been easy for him to get in." Sherlock nodded,

"Yes, it would seem that would make the most sense. Might I ask the neighbor a few questions?"

"He's still home as far as I know."

"Good, you go get started then." Sherlock turned back the wall, closely inspecting the dust.

"Wait, aren't you coming?"

"Yes, I just want a couple minutes to further look at the flat." Lestrade looked at John who just shrugged.

"I should probably stay too..." Lestrade looked like he was about to protest, but finally just sighed and left.

"Five minutes and then the pair of you are interrogating the neighbor." John nodded and Sherlock just mumbled something inaudible. Sherlock waited for the sound of the door closing before motioning for John to get closer to him.

"Take a look at this." John peered closely at the wall, and was about to remark that he didn't see anything when he noticed it. Someone had written a message in the dust on the wall. His heart accelerated to a million miles per-hour when he read what it said.

 _ **I O U**_

"I don't think it was the neighbor." Whispered John. Sherlock shook his head,

"Keep reading." John obliged. It took him a minute to decipher what had been written underneath, but his jaw dropped when he saw what it said.

 _ **GET THE DOCTOR**_

"The second one was written by the victim, and the murder was committed before two." John shook his head in disbelief.

"But it could be ANY doctor!" Sherlock looked closer at the body, inspecting every inch of the man.

"Yes, but we do have to start somewhere, and he was up before two."

"Hang on, is this just because of the alien thing?" Sherlock sighed,

"Perhaps. But we should probably go tell Lestrade it wasn't the neighbor." With that, he turned and left the flat. John turned to follow him and tripped over a box. He mumbled crossly before getting to his feet, dusting himself off as well as he was quite coated in dust. A slip of paper had floated out of the box which was odd. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he picked it up and unfolded it. His eyes widened when he saw what was inscribed.

"Sherlock!" He heard his partner bound up the stairs, he clearly hadn't left the flat yet.

"What?" John wordlessly handed him the note, and Sherlock took a deep breath.

"Right then, it definitely wasn't the neighbor." He made for the stairs again, still clutching the lined piece of paper.

"Should I tell Lestrade that we're leaving?" Sherlock pulled his scarf tight around his neck.

"Oh, he'll figure it out. TAXI!"

* * *

The Doctor jolted awake from his nap. Someone was standing outside of the flat and banging on the door. He blinked slowly and yawned, clambering out from under the blanket.

"COMING!" He tried his best to get to his feet, but his claws just hooked on the carpeted floor. He fell to the ground with a loud THUMP before he enabled his projection. He stood once more and checked on Donna before opening the door, amazed that she'd managed to sleep through all that racket. That being said, she did have the blankets draped over her face. He pulled the door open and smiled, his eyes still adjusting to the light flooding into the room through the door. "Yes?" He recognized the pair as John and Sherlock, and was quick to notice that neither of them looked too happy with him. "How can I help you?" He was trying to keep the tone light, knowing that Sherlock normally was only cross with people when he had a good reason. Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled a crumpled piece of lined paper out of his pocket. He held it out to The Doctor.

"Do you happen to know anything about this?" He carefully took the note from Sherlock and smoothed it out.

 _ **Hello Sherlock!**_

 _ **I do hope that it is you reading this letter, because that'd be pretty embarrassing if it wasn't you! Anyway, as you may have guessed, it was me! Big surprise! But I'm not alone this time, I've gotten myself a partner! This partner has informed me of a man called 'The Doctor' Says he's dangerous and their number one enemy. Sounds pretty murder-y if you ask me! Though, there are hundreds and HUNDREDS of Doctors in London, so good luck finding him! Oh, and by the way, I didn't write this letter. Had the victim write it for me before my accomplice killed him. Electricity is fun isn't it! So are aliens, very sci-fi!**_

The Doctor frowned before looking back to the duo. John had his arms crossed, and Sherlock was watching him closely.

"So, ringing any bells Doctor?" He shook his head, honestly just confused by the letter. As far as he knew, he hadn't any enemies in this universe. The alien thing weirded him out as well, nobody except Donna knew about that.

"Nope, but there are many Doctors in London." Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and had opened his mouth to say something when a dull thump sounded from within the flat, followed by some cross muttering. The Doctor turned to look and tried his best not to laugh at the sight that met his eyes. Donna had become tangled up in the blankets, and tried to get out of the bed with little success. She glared at him when they made eye-contact.

"You gonna just stare or what!?" He chuckled slightly before moving to her side to help untangle her. She sprung to her feet in a huff, kicking the blanket slightly before finally noticing the detective and his partner. "What do you want?"

"Well, just information. But your friend seems reluctant to give it." The Doctor sighed,

"Look, I don't know anything about this alright? We just got to London, needed a place to stay, and picked this flat. I didn't commit any crimes and Donna didn't either to my knowledge." Donna nodded to agree,

"Nope, I haven't done a thing." She then leaned to The Doctor, "What're they talking about exactly?" He didn't say anything and just passed her the note. She read it and raised her eyebrows. "What, so you think he's a murderer just because another murderer told you so!?"

"His name was also scratched into the wall by the victim." The Doctor sighed and rubbed at the back of his head, unsure of what to say.

"You're sure he wasn't requesting his doctor? It's not like I'm the only one in the whole of London." Watson nodded.

"Yeah, but we do have to start somewhere, and you were up at the time of the murder." Donna set her jaw, she looked to be rather fed up with them even though she had only been up for a few minutes.

"And when was that?"

"A bit earlier than two in the morning." The Doctor looked between the detective and his companion, glad he wasn't stuck between the two. Sherlock and Donna were both sporting withering glares, neither one wanting to back down. Sherlock finally broke eye-contact with her, now closely examining The Doctor's shoes. "We know for a fact that you two were up at that time, as was I."

"So who's to say that YOU didn't do it! Nobody would suspect the famous detective!"

"No, he didn't do it. He didn't get kicked out by me until two!" John was also looking cross now. "And besides, we already know who did it."

"Then why are you interrogating us!? Shouldn't you be out catching the murderer?!"

"We've dealt with this particular man before, and he's the type who leaves clues that have to be followed or people will die." The Doctor sighed heavily.

"Alright look, I'm not sure why you seem so sure that it's me who killed that poor bloke, but I've been in enough wars and seen enough death in my day. Believe me, I don't need to see any more." John grabbed Sherlock's wrist, and was about to pull him away when Sherlock stepped further into the flat.

"Did you two get a dog or a kitten?" The Doctor was a bit confused by the question, but decided to answer anyway.

"No... No pets, unless she brought one in." Donna shook her head,

"Nope." Sherlock strode further into the flat.

"Then why is the couch covered in fur?" The Doctor froze, trying to think of someting to get Sherlock off his case.

"Did the previous owners have any pets?" John and Sherlock exchanged a glance.

"Not to our knowledge." He felt his hearts slowly start to speed up as he began to panic.

"Well, that's odd then isn't it?" Sherlock fixed his steely gaze on The Doctor.

"It most certainly is." The uneasy tension between them grew with each passing second. "No pets and yet a furry couch..." Sherlock made to go further into the flat, but Donna barred his way.

"Alright, out." Sherlock furrowed his brow,

"I'm sorry, what?" Donna crossed her arms and stood on tiptoes to match his height.

"OUT." Her voice had developed a commanding tone that she usually only used when she was incredibly cross with The Doctor. Sherlock looked to John for help, but found that John was avoiding his gaze. The Doctor stifled a laugh, it was amusing to see her angry at someone other than him for a change. Sherlock backed up a few feet, Donna all but pushing him toward the door. "If you're going to accuse him of murder at least have some proper evidence!" With that, she slammed the door on them and turned back to The Doctor, her face flushed a little red.

"You should probably be a little nicer to them, we are staying a while after all." She sighed,

"Was I hard on them?"

"A bit, yeah." She groaned and flopped onto the bed.

"I just picked a fight with Sherlock Holmes, AND WON!"

* * *

Jim Moriarty grinned and leaned back into his leather chair, everything was going according to plan. His new partner in crime had proven to be invaluable, and he was pretty sure he had Sherlock stumped this time. The only problem he had was that his accomplice seemed to have an irrational fear of a man called 'The Doctor' which was...

 ** _Interesting..._**


	5. White Lies

**Hello again from chapter five! Glad to see you all back for another chapter full of Wholock action! Review if you liked it, follow if you loved it! Also, updates SHOULD be coming out at least once a week, but a date hasn't been picked yet. Anyway, I know you didn't come here to listen to me ramble. Enjoy the story!**

The Doctor looked out the peephole to the flat, nobody in sight. He snagged his long brown coat off the rack and pulled it on. He turned the doorknob and stepped out into the cool London air, being careful not to get his coat stuck in the door when he closed it. Sherlock and John had stayed outside of the door for quite a while after getting kicked out by Donna, and they had FINALLY left so that The Doctor could go for a stroll. He knew that Sherlock was probably keeping a close eye on him, as was John. His cream sneakers scuffed the pavement below him, and he glanced up to the window overlooking the street. Sure enough, Sherlock was standing in it with his violin at the ready. He frowned and closed the curtains when he caught The Doctor looking in. The Doctor shook his head and quickened his pace, not really wanting Sherlock to give chase. He broke into a jog, his coat streaming out behind him like a banner. He heard the door open behind him and groaned inwardly. He had planned to get the TARDIS and bring it to the flat, but with Sherlock tagging along he wasn't going to risk him discovering the blue box. He couldn't go any faster without seeming suspicious, so he was forced to listen as the footsteps closed in behind him. He turned a corner and glanced behind him, and was surprised to see not Sherlock, but John. He waved slightly when he saw The Doctor looking, and motioned for him to stop. The Doctor obliged and John came to a halt next to him, leaning up against a lamppost to catch his breath. "Sorry I didn't say anything." He panted out between breaths. The Doctor smiled,

"That's alright." He was secretly relieved that it was John and not Sherlock, because as far as he knew, Sherlock would've interrogated him as to what he was doing. John took a deep breath and stood upright, trying his best to match The Doctor's height.

"Okay, Sherlock seems to think that you're a murderer."

"Wait, hold on, did he send you out after me?" John sighed, but nodded. The Doctor tucked his hands into his pockets. "I'm not going to hurt anyone, I can promise you that. Believe me, there's more than enough hardship in the world without me causing any."

"Personally I don't think that you're out for blood, but Sherlock seems convinced that you've got something to do with it." The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair,

"Is there an outright reason for that or..." He let the sentence hang in the air. John shook his head.

"I'm really not sure... I mean, there was the note though."

"If you find out, can you please tell me? It'd be nice to know why he thinks I'm so terrible." John smiled at that,

"Well, there is one thing." He spoke slowly, "It sounds ridiculous though..."

"Try me." John hesitated before finally just saying it.

"He thinks you're an alien." The Doctor's hearts skipped a beat, but he forced himself to stay calm. He forced out a laugh.

"Really?" John nodded, chuckling slightly.

"Yeah, sounds mad doesn't it?"

"Nah, I believe in aliens. Not that I am one though."

"You think they're out there?" John gestured to the sky, making 'out there' seem unreachable. The Doctor smiled, his breath fogging up the air. He stared into the foggy sky as he spoke.

"Well, here's how I see it. The universe is vast and beautiful, and we can't be the only ones in it." John was smiling now too,

"I suppose that's true..." The pair of them stood in quiet contentment for a minute before John cleared his throat. "Well, you're sure you aren't involved in the case?" The Doctor nodded.

"Positive." John looked down at his feet before speaking again.

"I should probably head back and give Sherlock the report."

"Send him my regards!" John laughed,

"Will do!" With that, he was off, walking back in the direction he came. The Doctor watched him go before continuing on his way with a spring in his step. He was truly glad that John believed him to be a good person, despite what Sherlock thought. Sherlock himself still had The Doctor stumped though, and the alien thing had really caught him off guard. He didn't really understand why aliens of all things were a concern of Sherlock's, but that gave him all the more reason to be careful. He rounded the corner and headed down the narrow alleyway. The TARDIS was waiting for him, and he heard it hum in approval when he put a hand on the side of it.

"Miss me?" He asked softly. It hummed again in response. He smiled. "That's what I thought." He fitted the key into the keyhole and pushed the door open. The second it had snapped shut behind him, he disabled the projection as it was easier to fly with four legs rather than two. He took a deep breath and eyed the controls before starting to fiddle with the console. It took him only a minute to get to his destination, and he pushed open the doors with a triumphant grin. Donna was standing in front of the box.

"How the hell are we going to explain having a blue police box smack in the middle of our flat!? Not to mention the noise, I'm sure they'll be at our door in less than a minute now!" The Doctor enabled his projection and did a quick lap around the box. It was in the middle of the sitting room, which was going to be a problem.

"Should I try and land it elsewhere or should we just shove it to the end of the hall and call it good?" Donna smiled.

"Option two is looking pretty good."

"Okay, we're both gonna push." Donna nodded and rounded the edge of the box, The Doctor following on her heels. Once he was on the other side, he disabled his projection, bracing himself to push. He shot Donna a sideways glance, "Ready?"

"You bet." They then began to push. The TARDIS wasn't too heavy, as it was disguised as a police box, but it was still difficult to push. It scraped the walls, the sharp sound making The Doctor wince. With one final heave, they managed to shove it to the end of the hall. They both stood, leaning up against the doors as they caught their breath.

"I should probably go jump out the back window now." Mumbled The Doctor. Donna looked at him like he was insane.

"Why would you do that!?" The Doctor sighed and started to walk to the window, explaining his statement as he did so.

"Well, if I'm right, Sherlock is watching for me to come back. And if he doesn't see me come in, it's going to set off some red flags." He enabled his projection once more and popped open the window. "You think I can fit through?"

"Yeah, you should be good. There's hardly anything to you as it is." The Doctor started to slide out, making sure to go slowly so he wouldn't hurt himself. His shoes touched on the concrete and he let himself drop. It wasn't a very far fall, but he still almost tripped nonetheless. He heard Donna snicker at his ungraceful landing and he looked up to see her leaning out the window. "Beautiful landing!" The Doctor dusted himself off.

"Could've been worse, I'll be with you in a minute!" Donna shook her head before closing the window. The Doctor strode around the back of the building, and he was about to open the door when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around in surprise and felt his hearts sink in his chest when he saw who it was.

"Hello there Doctor, did you enjoy your run?" The Doctor smiled,

"Yeah, I did, yeah." Sherlock smiled as well, though it was anything but warm.

"Could you pop up to my flat for a few minutes, I've just got a few questions..."

* * *

Sherlock stood, examining the man in front of him with a critical eye, watching his every movement. The Doctor scratched his head,

"I suppose so." His eyes darted around nervously, clearly not wanting to go through with the questioning. Sherlock nodded and unlocked his flat, not looking back to see if The Doctor would follow him in, as he knew that he would. Sure enough, he heard The Doctor's light tread behind his own as he ascended the stairs. He was still pretty sure that he was involved in the case, but he was reluctant to show it. Sherlock only looked back when he was in his study. He motioned to a chair.

"Sit." The Doctor obliged without protest. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but The Doctor spoke faster.

"So, you sent John after me this morning on my jog." Sherlock frowned.

"I was busy."

"Busy spying on me? I saw you in the window you know." The Doctor's manner of speaking irritated the detective.

"Yes I noticed, that's why I closed the curtains." He did a full circle of the chair, not once taking his eyes off The Doctor. He seemed calm enough, and he stole glances at Sherlock when he thought he wasn't looking. The uneasy silence between them grew, the only noise in the room the breaths taken by each of them. The Doctor finally broke it.

"As much as I'm enjoying this game of giraffe, I'm assuming that you had a reason for asking me in?" Sherlock inclined his head,

"Yes, I still believe you're involved in the case." The Doctor groaned,

"Oh not this again..." Sherlock ignored his comment and continued.

"How long exactly have you been in London?"

"A couple days now, just taking a break from traveling."

"Alright, what about the animal you have in your flat?" The Doctor tensed a little, but Sherlock noticed it all the same.

"Neither of us have a pet." He was tripping on words now, which meant that the detective had struck a nerve.

"Oh, don't lie. The evidence is all over your coat for Pete's sake." The Doctor looked down at himself and flapped his coat. A scant few brown hairs fluttered to the floor of the study. The Doctor took a deep breath.

"I met a dog this morning, that's all." Sherlock was amused by this comment,

"Then how come your flat is coated with the same brown hairs?" The Doctor didn't have a reply to that, so Sherlock pressed on. "There's no use hiding anything, I'll figure it out eventually." The Doctor stayed silent. "Oh come on and humor me, you don't seem to be the silent type."

"Well, I'm not usually."

"Then why so quiet?" He took another deep breath, not speaking another word. He was sitting on the edge of the chair, set to leave at the slightest moment. Sherlock finally eased off his barrage of questions, knowing that if he was on edge, he wasn't going to be any help.

"Listen, there is no animal downstairs or I would know about it."

"That may be true." The Doctor made to leave.

"Well, it was lovely to-" Sherlock glowered at him.

"Oh sit back down!" The Doctor hesitated before sinking back into the chair.

"I'm not a murderer, and I don't have a pet. What else do you want!?" Sherlock looked him dead in the eyes, searching for a sign that he was lying. He was about to say something more when his phone started to ring. "You gonna answer that?" Sherlock drew the device from his pocket, it was from Lestrade. He put it to his ear.

"Yes?"

"Another victim, Sherlock there's been another." Sherlock grabbed a pen and notepad from a pocket.

"Where?" The Doctor looked at him curiously, clearly wanting to know what he was talking about.

"A couple blocks from baker street, I'll text you the address. Hurry!" With that, he hung up. Sherlock grabbed The Doctor roughly by the arm. He, however, was unfazed by this.

"So, where are we off to then?" He didn't seem to be too worried.

"Crime scene, another murder."

"And you're bringing me because..." Sherlock looked at him with a deadpan expression. The Doctor sighed. "Oh right, you think I'm the killer."

"That would be correct."

"Can I bring Donna along?" Sherlock ignored his question.

"JOHN!" He heard a shuffling from the next room.

"What?"

"Another murder! Get down here!" John stuck his head out of the door and grabbed his coat, shouldering it as he descending the steps. The Doctor waved timidly at him.

"Hullo John." John looked confused as to what he was doing in their flat.

"I thought you said that you'd leave him alone! He's just as human as you or me!"

"I lied, alright?" He pulled the door open and pushed The Doctor out onto the street. He released his arm once they were all outside, and The Doctor rubbed the sore spot bitterly.

"You could've been a little gentler..." He mumbled. Sherlock ignored him once again and was about to start walking when the door to The Doctor's flat swung open. The Doctor grinned broadly when he saw who had opened the door. Donna stepped out and asserted herself without missing a beat.

"Right, what did I miss?" Sherlock scowled when he saw the redhead, not happy that she was tagging along.

"Well, I was interrogated by Sherlock, and now I'm being kidnapped."

"Hello Sherlock. Still think he's a murderer then?" Sherlock set his jaw.

"Indeed." John looked between the two of them before interrupting their death-glare competition.

"Did Lestrade say to hurry?" Sherlock nodded and started to walk down the street. John matched his stride. "You alright?" He was puzzled by the question.

"Yes of course I'm fine." John sighed.

"I don't know why you've got it out for The Doctor, but I don't think he's an alien, or a murderer for that matter."

"He's gotten good at keeping secrets, I'll give him that." Sherlock's tone was bitter as he spoke, like any words mentioning The Doctor created a foul taste in his mouth. He could hear The Doctor filling Donna in on what had happened in his study, which was a whole lot of nothing as far as Sherlock was concerned. The questioning had proven to be pointless as The Doctor simply refused to tell him anything. John must've noticed his stormy expression.

"Are you sure you're alright." Sherlock tightened his scarf, his body on autopilot.

"I said I was fine." But in truth, he was more puzzled than ever before.

* * *

Moriarty grinned when he saw the party on the sidewalk below from his hideout. He was up on the roof of the flat across from his victim's and he had been told to keep an eye out for a certain man. He wasn't usually one to take orders, but he did want to check up on Sherlock anyway. He could make out the figures of John and Sherlock, but was quick to notice that they weren't alone. A redheaded woman and a tall, trench-coat wearing man followed behind them. Moriarty adjusted his binoculars, focusing in on the man. "Hello Doctor." He whispered, a sinister smile creeping across his face. "Hello indeed."


	6. Wilted Roses

**_WOOO-HOOO! Back with more Dragon-Wholock! Sorry for the long break between chapters, writer's block is LITERALLY the WORST THING EVER! But, I'm back now, and I have a question for y'alls! I'm still settling on an update schedule, and was wondering what you would prefer. Either A: Weekly updates (Shorter Chapters) Or B: Bi-Weekly updates (Longer Chapters) Let me know what you think with a review! Questions and ideas are always appreciated! Enjoy the story!_**

* * *

Sherlock could see Lestrade standing on the street corner, and walked past him in a huff, not stopping to even say hello. He stormed into the flat and knelt beside the body, pulling a magnifying glass from his pocket with a cross expression plastered on his face. The Doctor stood silently examining the wall in front of the body rather than the victim, in his own world as he stared at the mural. It was a young woman, she couldn't have been older than eighteen. She was wearing a bright yellow artist's smock and the wall her upper half was pressed against a wall which held a beautiful mural depicting an intricate rose. Vibrant hues stained her fingertips, and she was still smiling faintly, she had most likely been attacked from behind. Her floor was splattered with paints and her brushes were still in her cold hands. Brunette hair was splayed around her head like a halo. It was quite a pity really, such a waste of young life. The Doctor suddenly stood, his back to Sherlock. Sherlock became aware of an odd whirring noise. He went to peer over The Doctor's shoulder, but he wasn't quick enough. The noise had stopped the second that he'd stood. He scowled deeply, but decided to poke around the crime scene a little bit more. John stood next to him, but didn't speak, well aware of the detective's bad mood. Sherlock was grateful for the silence of his partner, as that meant he could think without much interruption. John leaned in Sherlock's direction. "What do we know about artist girl?" He whispered.

"She, like the last victim, was new in the neighborhood. She's about eighteen and akin to the other corpse, is single. Her parents are either poor, or didn't really care about her, causing her not to have many belongings to pack. She isn't paid much either." John frowned, and Sherlock could practically hear his little brain trying its best to work out the puzzle. Sherlock allowed him a minute before beginning his explanation. "The age thing was an estimate as usual, and she has no traces of an engagement ring and nobody was here helping her which would suggest her relationship status is less than stellar. But, if you would direct your attention to the phone at her side, the placement of it would suggest that she was indeed texing someone to ask them over. That's who Lestrade is dealing with at this very moment in fact. The entire house is empty yet again, save for a few scattered boxes holding her belongings. She is young and doesn't have much. Usually, the parents would gift her items of use or worth, but she doesn't seem to have much of value. The paint she is using is cheaply made, as well as the brushes and the smock is much too big. That would suggest that although she is extraordinarily talented, she doesn't have much to invest in her passion." He chanced a look at The Doctor to find him still looking at the wall, deep in thought, now wearing a brown pair of spectacles. He thought he saw the shine of tears in his eyes. He finally tore his gaze away and focused in on the body, his head bowed slightly to try and hide his sadness. Sherlock almost felt pity for him, but didn't want to let his guard down. Although he may be a monster, he could still cry.

"What was her name?" He asked quietly. The question caught Sherlock off guard, as he hadn't expected The Doctor to care about the case. The voice of Lestrade suddenly broke the silence.

"Karen, Karen Tyler." The Doctor inhaled sharply at the word Tyler. Sherlock whirled around as he hadn't noticed Lestrade enter the room. "And all your deductions were right by the way, right down to her parents not caring about her." The Doctor looked at Lestrade, a forced smile on his face.

"Hello I'm The Doctor." He extended his hand as a greeting. Lestrade shook it, making eye contact with Sherlock as he did so.

"Have you gone and made yourself another friend?" He asked, a slight tone of amusement in his voice. Sherlock stiffened at the comment.

"No, not a friend. A suspect." Lestrade raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. He looked to John for clarification on the statement.

"Him and Donna moved in downstairs, new tenants." Lestrade nodded, but in a way that meant he wanted more information. "And Sherlock thinks that The Doctor's the one killing people." The Doctor was looking at the wall again, putting his hand up against the delicate petals as if looking for something that wasn't there.

"Yeah, I can see that. He's watching him like a hawk." Sherlock shifted his focus back to Lestrade.

"How's her boyfriend taking her death?" Lestrade gaped for a moment before composing himself.

"He's pretty choked up, he got really emotional. He didn't want to see her though, but who can blame him?" The Doctor nodded.

"Loosing someone is hard." Donna looked sympathetic, she clearly knew why he was so distressed. Sherlock moved so he was standing next to The Doctor, now back to examining the wall. He then whispered so only The Doctor could hear.

"Was her name Rose Tyler?" He sighed, a far-away look in his eyes. He inclined his head to acknowledge what Sherlock had said.

"Yeah." Lestrade cleared his throat,

"Her parents are waiting outside, they want to talk to you." Sherlock turned and strode down the stairs, John following close behind. Once they were out of earshot of The Doctor and Donna, John pulled him aside.

"What did you tell him?" Sherlock pretended to act confused.

"Who?" John frowned.

"The Doctor! You said something to him and he broke, what was it?"

"I just asked him a question John."

"And what might that be?"

"If her name was Rose Tyler." John looked unsure of what to say.

"If who's name was Rose?"

"The friend he lost. Didn't you see the way he was looking at the painting? Or how he tensed up when Lestrade mentioned that her last name was Tyler?" John furrowed his brow and pushed open the door, shaking his head slightly.

"You can't just ask people things like that Sherlock." Sherlock opened his mouth to interject, but John cut him off. "And I don't care if he isn't human, he clearly cared about this Rose a whole lot, how do you think it would feel to have it brought up again?! What if someone you cared about died and somebody you barely knew asked you about it!?"

"He was already crying..." He mumbled. "And I didn't think he'd get so emotional over his victi-"

"Look, maybe you should ease off a little. Give him some room to breathe, alright?" Sherlock examined the floor.

"Why should I do that?"

"Maybe he'd be more open with someone he trusts, Donna clearly knows what's going on with him." Sherlock considered this carefully, he hated to admit it, but John did have a point.

"Fine." John looked at him with a critical eye.

"Promise?" Sherlock didn't break eye-contact for what seemed like an eternity.

"Yes, I promise." John seemed to be satisfied with that, and held the door open.

"You have any idea what to say to her parents?" Sherlock tightened his scarf.

"Not a clue, but I'm sure I'll think something up."

* * *

The Doctor watched the pair of them from the upstairs window, thinking hard. Donna gently rested her hand on his arm. "You okay?" She asked, her concern showing in her voice. The Doctor removed his glasses and tucked them into his pocket.

"Oh, you know me... I'll manage." She smiled slightly.

"Yeah, you'll manage alright." The Doctor gestured to Sherlock and John.

"Should we go see what they're up to?"

"It's probably best to give him a minute." Donna and The Doctor both turned to Lestrade, who shuffled his feet a little before continuing. "He seemed pretty cross earlier, I should probably go and make sure he doesn't start a blood feud." The Doctor nodded.

"Fair point." Lestrade turned to leave, stealing a glance at the other two.

"You can't touch anything, or Sherlock'll flip." Donna smiled crookedly,

"Yeah, he would." With that, Lestrade left the two of them alone in the room, stealing one last glance at them before clomping down the stairs. The second he left, The Doctor started pacing, clearly thinking something over.

"He still thinks I'm a murderer! AND AN ALIEN!"

"Yeah, but you are an alien." The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair,

"Yeah, but Sherlock shouldn't know that." It was really bugging him that Sherlock seemed to have a one-up on him, and he didn't even know how he knew!

"You should probably stay in your human shape in here..." She could always tell when he was on the verge of turning off the projection, and usually, it was fine. Not many people questioned a dragon, but she had a feeling Sherlock wouldn't take it too well.

"Yeah... Good point. He'd probably figure out it was me because I'd scratch the floor or something..." Donna smiled,

"And you're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah... Like I said, I'll manage." Donna took his arm and started walking to the door,

"C'mon, let's see what he's up to." She personally wasn't a fan of the sad mood, and she figured he needed something to distract himself with. He resisted for a moment, but gave in to her constant pull, following her down the stairs and out the door. Sherlock and John stood a couple yards away, along with a man in a fancy sports car. They weren't quite close enough to hear the conversation, but the man in the car was slowly going red.

"SHE RAN AWAY AND REFUSED OUR HELP! CAN YOU GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!?" Sherlock seemed to be struggling to keep calm, his jaw set.

"How long had she been gone?" The man opened his mouth to yell some more, but then realized what Sherlock had said.

"About a week..."

"How come all of her things were still in boxes?" The man seemed to think this over, and was about to say something when Sherlock cut him off. "Nope, that's wrong."

"How could you-"

"You were going to suggest that she didn't have the time to unpack, correct?" The man ran his fingers through his sandy hair.

"Well yes, bu-"

"That would be wrong, she had time to paint that mural, didn't she?" Sherlock suddenly spun to face The Doctor and Donna. His expression going sour. The Doctor strode over to him, smiling slightly.

"That she did, but did you consider that the mural was her first priority?" Sherlock scowled, but The Doctor could tell he was considering his point. The man looked to The Doctor, seemingly confused.

"And... Who might this be?" The Doctor grinned broadly,

"Hello, I'm The Doctor. Mr. Tyler I presume?" Mr. Tyler nodded, still slightly confused. Sherlock took a deep breath,

"Judging by the fact that a few boxes were slightly unpacked, that would make your statement correct." He seemed reluctant to admit that The Doctor was right, which made Donna smile. "However..." He continued, "The painting was layered over a period of about a week, with plenty of time to dry. What do you propose that she used her spare time for?" His voice had a challenging tone to it, as if daring The Doctor to continue.

"Well, you said she had a boyfriend, yeah? And she's new in the neighborhood, so she's probably been acquainting herself with the surrounding area." They were getting competitive now, both facing each-other with determination. John and Donna stood next to each-other, neither really wanting to intervene, watching the fireworks safely from the sidelines.

"That... Would make sense..." Sherlock was slowly backing down. The Doctor let him back off, a smug smile creeping onto his face. Sherlock turned in a huff to Mr. Tyler. "You can go now." He snapped. The man looked like he was going to say something else, but Sherlock's withering glare convinced him to keep quiet. He sped away without looking back. Lestrade shook his head.

"Maybe you should be a little nicer to your clients?"

"Your case. Your client. You just called me to come." With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off. John looked between Sherlock and The Doctor before pursuing his partner down the street. Lestrade looked to The Doctor, a sympathetic expression in his eyes.

"Good luck with that." The Doctor smiled,

"Ah, what can he do? He's stuck with me!" Lestrade chuckled,

"You do seem to be more than a match for him, that's for sure." Donna stared down the street, watching John and Sherlock until they disappeared from view. The Doctor smiled at Lestrade,

"We should probably be off, still moving in after all!" Lestrade nodded, and the pair of them sauntered off down the sidewalk.

"Well, that went well." The Doctor snickered, his mood clearly improved.

"Could've been worse, not gonna lie." They walked at a brisk pace, chatting absently about past adventures and mishaps. The Doctor suddenly squinted at something in the distance, "Oh boy..." Donna craned her neck.

"What?"

"Don't look now, but I think that's John and Sherlock over there." He gestured to a park bench across the street. Sure enough, the detective and his partner were eyeballing them from across the way, though both of them pretended not to look when they saw them coming. "Walk faster." Whispered The Doctor, Donna obeyed without question. They power-walked back to the safety of their flat, shutting the door behind them with a dull thud. The Doctor was back to his natural state in a matter of seconds, his claws sinking into the carpeted floor. He began pacing, and Donna narrowly avoided getting smacked by his tail.

"Oi! Watch it!"

"Sorry..." He mumbled, refraining from pacing and flopping across the sofa. His tail twitched and thumped the arm of the couch. "How did he know?"

"Would you quit asking me? It's not like I know!" She pushed him slightly, "Move over." He obliged and she slid herself onto the sofa next to him, leaning up against him slightly. "We can't stay in here forever y'know."

"Yeah, Sherlock'll knock soon anyhow. That's him right now I bet." Donna heard a door swing open, and the sound of fast footsteps above them. The Doctor cocked his head, one ear swiveled slightly. "He's searching his drawers." Donna smiled.

"Bet he's getting his revolver." Not a second after she made the bet, the sound of bullets caused her to jump. The Doctor sighed and laid his ears flat against his head, trying his best to block out the noise. "Loud enough for you lizard-boy?" She teased. He put his clawed hands over his head with a groan.

"Definitely."

* * *

Moriarty sauntered into the dark warehouse, his senses on high-alert. Dust blew throughout the building, making it seem even more gloomy than it already was. A light suddenly came on in front of him, accompanied by a voice.

"HAVE YOU LOCATED THE DOCTOR?" Moriarty grinned,

"Indeed I have."

"WE NEED TO TAKE FURTHER ACTION. DRAW HIM OUT OF HIS HIDING PLACE." Moriarty didn't really understand his accomplice's fear of The Doctor, but he supposed everyone had something.

"What do you need me to do?"

"WHAT DOES SHERLOCK HOLD MOST DEAR?" A devilish gleam lit in his eyes.

"His partner, John Watson."

"HERE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS. THEY ARE TO BE FOLLOWED WITHOUT QUESTION." He nodded, liking where this was going.

"I'm all ears."


	7. Flights of Fancy

**Super-Duper sorry about the REALLY LONG between chapters, but things should be getting into a normal-ish rhythm sooner or later! I re-wrote this chapter a couple of times, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! Ideas, thoughts, and feedback are always appreciated and read. Review if you liked it, follow if you loved it!**

* * *

It was nearly pitch black outside, the only light coming from scattered streetlamps shining down on the pavement. The Doctor was up on the roof, testing its weight. He knew he had to be quiet and also discreet, as the buildings across from him still had light coming from the windows. He had asked Donna if she had wanted to come on a midnight flight, but she had just called him crazy. He supposed she had a reason to be afraid of flying, as their last flight had been a very sharp downward spiral. (Which HAD worked as an escape plan) He admitted that he saw her point, as she had screamed in his ear for the whole duration of the trip, terrified that they were going to crash. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and smiled slightly as he felt two huge wings unfurl from his back. He had explained it to Donna countless times, but she had given up trying to understand how he could have wings one minute and none the next. They weren't really there unless he needed them to be, a status symbol among Timelords. He had found them to be useful for getting out of tight scrapes, and for clearing his head when the thoughts were getting to loud. He peered down at the street below, a cool breeze blowing through his mane. He backed up a few paces before breaking into a sprint and throwing himself off the roof, giving his wings a powerful flap as he leapt. One flap brought him above the buildings, and a few more brought him to the level of the clouds, cooling his scales. It felt oddly like home, the cold reminding him of his lost planet. He forced those thoughts out of his mind, concentrating on the sound of his wings flapping in the dark. The city was made entirely of lights beneath him, and it seemed almost... tranquil. He swooped lower over the buildings, using his tail as he turned, letting it flow behind him. He angled himself upward and began climbing, higher and higher. Faster and faster.

He broke the cloud layer, the full moon looking down on him like a watchful eye. The stars shone brightly, and he knew he could name each and every one without having to give it a second thought. He stopped flapping and let himself glide like a paper-airplane, letting the wind carry him whichever way it decided to. He extended a talon and skimmed the clouds below him, thinking back to the first time he had flown over the Earthen sky, taking in the beauty of his surroundings. He knew he was being careless, with Sherlock on the hunt, he probably should keep his projection on twenty-four-seven... But he didn't care, after all, it was none of his business anyway. He climbed a few more feet, feeling as if he could pluck the stars from the sky and scatter them across the galaxy. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the thin air filling his lungs. He kept his eyes closed and enabled his projection, now feeling his human shape plunging to the ground, the wind whistling in his ears. He flipped onto his back and opened his eyes once more, falling back through the cloud layer. Most people would find this frightening, terrifying even! But he found it comforting, knowing that he was completely in control. Finally, he turned back to his natural state, his wings lifting him back up almost effortlessly. He stretched his legs out in front of him, flexing his claws. It had been a while since he had flown, but he knew in his hearts he would always remember how. He slowly turned in a couple of large circles, gently spiraling down and towards the roof of his current residence. He landed on all-fours, and tucked his wings safely away upon landing, knowing that they'd be there if he ever needed them. He enabled his projection and pushed open the door to his flat, being careful to lock the door behind him. He didn't want to risk Sherlock figuring out what he was just yet.

The first thing that he noticed upon his arrival was the fact that all the lights were on, casting eerie shadows across the room. He cautiously walked in further, a feeling of dread building in the pit of his stomach.

"Donna?" He called, "You there?" He strained his ears, listening for a sound that wasn't there. His hearts started to speed up, something was wrong, and he knew it. It was too quiet, no sound present except for his pounding hearts, his breathing, and his thoughts. "If this is a joke, it REALLY isn't funny!" He was trying his best not to panic, and he tried to rationalize the situation. Maybe she had just gone out for a walk, or to pick up something from the store and gotten sidetracked. Maybe she was camped out in a hotel, just enjoying a quiet evening alone. He was suddenly struck with a thought, maybe she was in the TARDIS! He practically sprinted to his blue box and jammed the key into the lock, throwing the doors wide open. "Donna!?" No answer. He fiddled with the console, thinking that maybe she could be in another room. He swung the monitor to face him, holding onto the hope that maybe her name would pop up on the screen. He read the screen with dismay.

 **THE DOCTOR. GALLIFREYAN, TIMELORD.**

He was completely and utterly alone. His thoughts immediately sprang to Sherlock, perhaps he was questioning her? He dashed back out from his box, and nearly tripped in his haste to get out. He saw it in mid-stumble, just a piece of paper. Heck, he probably would've missed it if he hadn't nearly tripped. He unfolded it as fast as he could, the cold feeling in his chest growing as he read each word. He flew back out into the street and started pounding on Sherlock's door, knowing that the detective would be up. "SHERLOCK! JOHN!" He heard a shuffling from upstairs and started banging harder, not caring if he woke up the entire neighborhood at this point. The door finally swung open with a crash, revealing a very disgruntled detective.

"You better have an incredibly good explanation as to why you're attempting to break the door down!" He snapped, clearly not in the best of moods already. The Doctor took a deep breath,

"Donna's missing." Sherlock scowled.

"That's it? Bit of an improvement if you ask me..." The Doctor struggled to keep his temper in check, though Sherlock did know how to make his blood boil. Sherlock finally sighed."Do you want to come in?"

"That would be appreciated." He mumbled. Sherlock turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time. The Doctor gave his coat a quick shake before following him up.

"Why did you come to me?" Asked Sherlock, "You could have just gone to the police, and if you don't mind me saying so, we haven't been on the... Friendliest terms so-to-speak."

"Because." He drew a slightly-crumpled piece of paper from his pocket with a flourish. "I think it's connected with your case, and you are going to help me whether you like it or not!" He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but the words had piled up on each-other and exploded out of his mouth. Sherlock didn't seem too surprised by his outburst, clearly knowing that he was quite worried. "Sorry..." He mumbled apologetically. The detective didn't seem to notice his apology, his eyes fixated on the paper in The Doctor's hand.

"May I...?" The Doctor held the paper out to him, and he snatched it eagerly, like it was a Christmas present.

 **My, my my... Isn't this a plot-twist?**

 **Donna's gone missing, two people are dead, and secrets and suspicions are growing! Anyway, she isn't dead so don't worry about that. What you should be worrying about, however, is how long they have left. There is a puzzle hidden in The Doctor's flat, find it, solve it, and you can save them. You DO have a time limit, but I'm not going to tell you how long. Solve the puzzle and you'll figure out how long they have. Don't solve it, and they'll be... How did my accomplice put it again? Ah yes, EXTERMINATED.**

The Doctor watched Sherlock re-read it a couple of times, his eyebrows slowly knitting together as concern blossomed on his face. "Who are 'they'?" He asked slowly, now staring at The Doctor.

"I don't know anyone else here, and I just met you and John..." The Doctor was suddenly struck with a worrying thought. "Where is John anyway?" Sherlock's eyes darted around the flat in confusion.

"I... I don't know..." He suddenly seemed to realize what the words implied and sprang toward the door, his coat billowing behind him. The Doctor followed close on his heels, chasing him down the dark streets. "JOHN!"

* * *

Sherlock knew it was pointless, that he was calling to no-one, but that didn't stop him from trying. He could hear The Doctor's footsteps behind his own and quickened his pace. He didn't want to deal with him right now. "JOHN!" He finally stopped, hanging his head in defeat. The Doctor put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm so sorry... I know how it feels." Sherlock turned and glared at him, his eyes red-rimmed.

"You have no idea how it feels!" He snapped. The Doctor sighed heavily.

"He's got Donna too." Sherlock examined his shoes, not wanting to meet The Doctor's eyes, knowing just how full of hurt they would be. He heard a hitch in his voice, the man was clearly on the verge of tears. "I promised to keep her safe..." The Doctor's hand left Sherlock's shoulder, the man now rubbing at the back of his own neck. Sherlock turned to him, looking for any signs that he was lying, that he would snap and kill him... But there was nothing there except defeat and sadness, but beneath that... Anger. Sherlock turned back toward the flat, walking at a brisk pace, determined not to let The Doctor know how much he was hurting.

"So... We've got to work together then?" He asked, letting the question hang in the air. The Doctor dragged his feet as he walked beside Sherlock, his usual cheery expression replaced with a mask.

"Seems so." Sherlock's phone suddenly buzzed, causing him to jump slightly, still on-edge. He pulled it out of his pocket, and felt his heart drop when he read the message.

 **Playing Dragon-slayer are we brother? I would think you crazy, but I think I may have seen the beast you were talking about. -M. H**

There was a picture attached, and Sherlock hesitated before opening it. It was slightly blurry, but he could still make out the shape to be that of The Doctor. The only discrepancy as far as Sherlock could tell was that this creature had wings, huge ones in fact. The Doctor had already made it back to the flat, and was gesturing for Sherlock to follow him in. "We don't know how long they have!" Sherlock nodded, tucking his phone in his pocket, though not before sending a quick reply.

 **The creature I saw had no wings, though they are the same otherwise. What of the box I mentioned? -S. H**

With that, he followed The Doctor inside, noticing at once the lack of furniture. Sherlock wandered down the hall, tapping on the walls as he went, searching for anything that could be hollow. That's when he saw it, the same blue as when he had seen it the first time. He slowly pressed his hand against the wood, hardly able to believe it was there. The Doctor suddenly stuck his head around the corner. "Find any-" He stopped short when he saw Sherlock touching the box. "It would probably be in your best interest to take your hand off." Sherlock cocked his head.

"And why would that be? I was just going to take a peek, that's all." The Doctor seemed to be on the verge of panic, but he was hiding it well.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you..." Sherlock inspected the box closely, weighing his options before deciding. He took a deep breath, and pushed the door open, ignoring The Doctor's warnings. He struggled to keep himself calm at the sight that met his eyes, caught completely off-guard by just how... BIG it was. He heard The Doctor sigh in an exasperated manner, swinging the door shut behind him. "Should've locked it..." He mumbled, moving to stand next to Sherlock. "Ah, you were bound to find out sooner or later I suppose. Welcome to the TARDIS!" The machine hummed when its name was spoken, a gentle light pulsing from the console. Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he did a lap around the sandy-colored room, his brain feeling like it would explode.

"How is this possible!" Sherlock's eyes darted around nervously, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Huge columns arched high above him, and a console covered in buttons, levers, and mechanisms that Sherlock couldn't even recognize was mounted in the middle of the room.

"Well, it's hard to explain properly, believe me, I know." Sherlock's mind was racing, trying to think up a logical explanation to the bigger-on-the-inside-box. He found nothing logical about it, all the cold hard facts he had come to know dashed to pieces. "Besides, we don't have time to go over it right no- Sherlock what're you doing?" Sherlock, in question, had left the box and was on the outside, trying to figure out how it worked. It really did just look like a police box, a bit out of place, but still a police box. He ran back inside, shaking his head slightly.

"I-How-Wh-" Sherlock was finding it hard to form words, his thoughts racing out of control. The Doctor firmly gripped both his shoulders, causing him to temporarily snap out of his trance.

"Sherlock, breathe." Sherlock obliged, taking several deep breaths to try and calm himself down, trying desperately to make sense of it all. He looked The Doctor in the eyes, and the man looked genuinely worried.

"Alright, listen. We need to find Donna and John, and although I would love to go over this machine with someone, now is hardly the time." Sherlock slowly nodded his agreement.

"So... This is how you travel?" He finally asked.

"Yep!" The Doctor replied, putting extra emphasis on the 'P' "Anywhere and everywhere! All of time and space at my fingertips! But again, we're getting distracted." The Doctor stroked the side of the console before pushing a few buttons, swinging the monitor in his direction as he did so.

"Anything out of the ordinary? Other than the entire ship?" The Doctor pulled out a pair of glasses and leaned into the monitor, squinting slightly. Sherlock watched him work, noticing just how... Impossible it all seemed. Even though matters were pressing, he couldn't help but try and figure out how it all worked. The Doctor suddenly leapt back and hauled open a panel in the mesh floor, rummaging through the contents stored underneath. He finally let out a whoop of triumph and tossed a silver disc in Sherlock's direction. He caught it without batting an eye, still a little shocked. The Doctor shoved the grating back into place, the loud metallic bang temporarily bringing Sherlock back to the present. He furrowed his brow, examining the object he was holding. The Doctor took it from him, pushing a button embedded in the top. A green holographic display flickered to life above it, showing what appeared to be a set of numbers. The Doctor pulled a silver device from his pocket and pointed it at the disc, creating the same buzzing noise Sherlock had heard at the crime scene. The Doctor noticed him looking and smiled slightly.

"Sonic screwdriver, good for figuring out what things are." Sherlock watched him closely, unsure of what move to make next. The Doctor's eyes suddenly went wide. "It's a video message!" He punched the numbers into the TARDIS console, and the monitor blinked before showing a static-y message. The camera quality wasn't the best, but Sherlock could make out the figure shown to be Donna.

"Hello, this message is pre-recorded, so don't try to track it Doctor. They're telling me what to say, and I am being forced to comply." The Doctor blanched.

"Oh Donna..." The message continued, and Sherlock was quick to notice that she didn't look nearly as peppy as usual, and her usual commanding tone was gone.

"Anyway, back to the subject of murders. I've got one more planned, someone you might know Sherly. As you may have guessed, you can prevent this one! Yaayyy!" The message suddenly flickered, Donna now replaced by John.

"The encryption on this video is also a set of coordinates, along with a time. That, obviously, is when and where the murder is going to happen. Figure out how they're going to die and try to prevent it." The video switched again, the voice of Donna now coming through the speakers.

"As for how long they've got, they have exactly two days." Donna's voice was shaking, and she sounded almost on the verge of tears.

"KEEP TALKING!" Roared a voice from off-camera, that of someone Sherlock knew all too well.

"That time starts now, good luck." With that, it blinked out, leaving the pair in the TARDIS shaken.

* * *

Donna awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding and her palms sweaty. She tried to stand, but ropes cut into her skin, effectively pinning her in place. She could feel her body shaking slightly. She had known that travelling with The Doctor would be dangerous, but this was the first time that she had felt completely helpless. She heard someone groan next to her and recognized the voice to belong to John. She tried to speak, to cry for help, but a gag stopped sound from escaping her lips. Her head felt like it was full of wool, and she tried her best to figure out where she had ended up. Her memories slowly started to return, starting with her polite declination of a midnight flight all the way up to making a video message under the direction of a madman. She knew she should've locked the door, but she had been too late. She hardly had time to realize what was happening before a sickly-sweet smell filled her nostrils and she blacked out. She heard John struggling next to her, and then, the sound of footsteps caused her pulse to quicken. She was vaguely aware of her gag being removed before a light was thrown on above them, causing her to squint. She blinked a few times, sunspots dancing across her vision as her eyes adjusted to the light. She finally managed to regain her senses. "What the hell is going on!?" She snapped, trying not to let her fear show in her voice. A well-dressed man walked into her line of vision.

"Isn't it obvious? Or do I have to spell EVERYTHING out for you? You're hostages!"

"I think I figured that out thanks!" She spat.

"Donna, let him talk." John's voice sounded slightly hoarse, defeated and helpless. The man grinned.

"Oh, why thank you. What good manners!" He laughed at his own bad joke before continuing. "A friend of mine and I decided to get a little... Revenge on our enemies so-to-speak." Another sound behind him caused Donna to strain her eyes to try and see what was causing it. She felt her heart drop in her chest when she saw it. She remembered The Doctor's words of advice regarding the metal creature. _'You see one, you run straight to me. Don't stop for anything. Stop, and you're as good as dead. They slaughtered my whole race, believe me, I know how effective their laser is. It'll try to kill you, no doubt about that. It won't ever stop killing, that's what it was BORN to do. Try to keep it talking, it'll usually respond if you manage to confuse it. Run in a pattern that'd make you hard to shoot, but get away from it as fast as you can.'_

"What's that?" Asked John, "Some sort of robot?"

"The Doctor told me about them," Stated Donna, now failing to keep the quiver out of her voice, her fear growing by the second. "That's a Dalek." The creature's eye-stalk spun towards her, and the lights atop its head flashed as it spoke.

"THAT WOULD BE CORRECT."

* * *

 **Yeah, I know. I'm evil. Next update will be soon! I promise.**


	8. Cyanide Lies

**Before I say anything, I just wanted to thank everyone who has left a review on this story, or given it a follow or a favorite. I know, I know, it's really cheesy, but that means a lot! I also FINALLY gave the chapters proper names, just because 'Chapter One' just wouldn't cut it. Anyway, I don't want to delay you for too long. Review if you liked it, follow if you loved it! Enjoy the story!**

* * *

Sherlock watched The Doctor at the controls, the fact that he was unable to help irritating him to no end. "So, you're an alien?" The Doctor pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket, his eyes not leaving the console.

"Don't recall telling you that, but yeah."

"Is that really how you look?" The Doctor pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, frowning slightly.

"Something wrong with that?" Sherlock edged his way closer to the console, looking over The Doctor's shoulder as he worked.

"No, you just look... Human..." The Doctor had just opened his mouth to speak when a sudden beep from the console caused him to stop. Sherlock cursed inwardly, he had been close to getting The Doctor to confess, he knew it!

"It's done, wanna see?" Sherlock nodded, moving to his side. The Doctor swung the monitor so both of them could see the display. Sherlock leaned closer to the blurry image and The Doctor smacked the side of the screen, causing it to become clear. Sherlock felt his blood turn to ice at the image. The Doctor seemed to notice the change immediately. "Recognize it?"

"That's Saint Bart's hospital, about eight minutes from here by car." The Doctor nodded, tucking his glasses back into his suit.

"Know anyone there?" Sherlock nodded.

"Molly. Molly Hooper."

"Well, according to this, we've got an hour to save her. Best get a move on." He grabbed his brown coat off one of the columns and slung it over himself. He seemed to be in the moment, he clearly dealt with things like this on a regular basis. Sherlock pulled his scarf around his neck and pulled open the doors, smiling slightly as he heard The Doctor lock the doors to the impossible machine. "Don't need anyone else sticking their noses in where they don't belong!" Sherlock hailed a cab and the two of them wasted no time strapping themselves in, discussing their plan in the backseat. "She's got an hour, any idea how he plans to kill her?" Sherlock stiffened.

"He's not going to kill her." The Doctor smiled slightly.

"That's true, but we need to figure out how he's trying to kill her in order to stop it."

"Probably poison, something that doesn't take too long to kick in." His mind was racing, his thoughts resembling an overflowing toilet. He knew he had to focus on Molly, but he kept getting distracted by the fact that he was sitting next to an alien. He was so caught up in his thoughts in fact, that he didn't notice that they had pulled up at the hospital. The Doctor gave him a slight nudge.

"We're here." Sherlock led the way through the dim building, expertly weaving through the maze of concrete. "Y'know, it's interesting that nobody's questioned us yet. It's not like we've presented passes or anything, but here we are!" Sherlock was grateful that The Doctor was trying to provide a distraction, and he was happy to play along for the moment.

"Well, it's pretty early. Not many people who don't need to be here would be here this early. And besides, I don't think we've run into anyone who would stop us anyway."

"Yeah, it has been eerily quiet, hasn't it?" Their footsteps and the air-conditioning had been the only sounds in the building, making it seem like a horror movie setup. Sherlock held the door for The Doctor before following him, being quick to notice that Molly wasn't present. "On her break?" Sherlock could feel his heartbeat slowly speeding up. Moriarty had said she wasn't dead, she had a little less than an hour left, but she was still alive!

"She must be." He was finding it hard to speak past the lump of guilt in his throat, it was his fault Molly was in danger. The Doctor seemed to pick up on this.

"It isn't your fault, I know that look. He's trying to get to you through people you care about, but you have to remember it's not your fault." Sherlock nodded,

"Thanks." The Doctor smiled slightly, but Sherlock could tell it was forced. He directed his attention to the room, searching for anything that could be even remotely dangerous.

"Is that a corpse?"

"Yes, that's a part of her job."

"Dealing with dead people?" Sherlock nodded and The Doctor shuddered, "Seen too many stiffs in my day. Though everyone dies I suppose..." Sherlock ducked under the table, looking for anything with a sharp edge.

"How old are you exactly?"

"Nine-Hundred-Four." Sherlock furrowed his brow, but didn't say a word. That was one of the least crazy things he had heard all day, and none of The Doctor's body language indicated that he was lying. The Doctor suddenly let out a noise of frustration.

"What is it?" The Doctor tapped the sonic screwdriver, frowning as he did so.

"It's not working, they've done something to deactivate it! They knew I'd try to figure it out the easy way! It still seems to work for unlocking doors and such, but it won't do a scan!" Sherlock watched him fiddle with the troublesome device for a moment more before he tucked it back into his pocket. He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly thinking hard. "Alright, that's fine. It's just going to be a bit harder, that's all." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of this, his eyes darting around, unable to pick something to focus on. Sherlock knew this feeling well, having been unsure of many cases in his lifetime. He snapped his focus back to the task at hand, where was the danger? Everything in the room seemed harmless, nothing out of order. The Doctor seemed to be under the same impression, double checking under the table. Sherlock paced over to the window, able to see the sun coming out. A slight cough from behind caused the detective to whirl around, and he heard a dull thud as The Doctor slammed his head into the table.

"I-I'm sorry I just thought you were someone else..." Molly was standing behind him, a mug of tea in hand. The Doctor smiled at her, a real smile, not forced like earlier.

"That's alright, Molly Hooper I presume?" Molly frowned.

"How did you know my name?" Sherlock decided it was time for him to make his presence known.

"That would be my doing. Hello Molly."

"Hi, what're you doing here this early?" The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock shot him a glare. The Doctor seemed confused, but didn't say anything.

"On a case." Molly seemed skeptical, her gaze drifting toward The Doctor.

"Who's he?" Sherlock was going to introduce him, but The Doctor beat him to it.

"I'm The Doctor, pleasure to meet you!" She didn't question his name, she seemed tired, much less chatty than usual.

"Nice to meet you too." She stifled a yawn. "Sorry, I just-"

"Took an extra shift, yes?" Molly smiled.

"That'd be right." Molly was a good-hearted person, and if someone dropped a shift, she would certainly pick it up. "But why are you here? I mean, yeah you said you were on a case and all, but why here?" Sherlock's mind raced to try and come up with a good excuse. The Doctor raised an eyebrow and gestured to a clock hanging behind him. Sherlock felt his heart sink. She had ten minutes. He took a deep breath before deciding she deserved at least part of the truth.

"Molly, something is going to happen, something bad. Someone is going to die and we're here trying to stop it." Molly visibly paled, clearly worried. The Doctor stepped toward her.

"Listen. I know it seems scary but we're not going to let anything bad happen, alright?" She nodded weakly.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." The Doctor gave her a reassuring smile.

"That's the spirit." Sherlock's eyes darted around the room, where was the danger? The fact that he didn't know was killing him, and if he didn't figure out what was going to happen, killing wouldn't just be a metaphor. Molly set her mug down on the table, and The Doctor gave it a sideways glance. "Mind if I have some?" Sherlock frowned slightly, unsure as to where he was going with this. Molly nodded, tucking a few locks of hair behind her ear.

"Sure, I don't think I'd be able to." The Doctor took a few sips.

"Thanks, been awhile since I had a good cuppa tea." He suddenly pulled a face. "Blimey, what did you put in this?" She chuckled halfheartedly.

"Lots of sugar, figured it'd keep me up." Sherlock watched the clock tick down to seconds, his worry growing by the minute. The Doctor seemed to be under the same impression. The Doctor suddenly clutched his middle with a slight groan. Sherlock's eyes grew wide as he realized what had happened.

"Molly... Where'd you get the sugar?" Her answer was cut short by The Doctor trying to stand with little success. He made eye contact with the detective, and he looked like he was trying his best not to panic. He slowly managed to form words, his face turning slightly red as he spoke.

"I've been poisoned."

* * *

The Doctor had known he was taking a gamble, but he didn't want Molly to get herself poisoned. Molly moved to his side and tried to support him as he slowly rose to his feet. His breathing was becoming labored, and he could feel his projection beginning to fail. He worked his sonic screwdriver out from his pocket and handed it to Molly. He took a deep breath before trying to speak again. "Molly, I need you to take what I just gave you and point it at every security camera in this room and near it, you got that?" Molly looked like she was about to argue, but Sherlock cut her off.

"Do as he says." She nodded, and The Doctor smiled in spite of the situation.

"You've got yourself a good friend there." Sherlock ignored him.

"What can I do to help you!?" The Doctor winced as the poison coursed through his veins.

"You catch on fast!"

"Doctor, what do you need for an antidote!?" The Doctor took a few quick breaths, his chest heaving.

"Something with ginger! Ginger-beer would be the best, but anything ginger-y will do the trick!" The Doctor waited until Sherlock had left the room before looking at his hands. He was going fuzzy around the edges, and he was on the verge of transforming. He closed his eyes, trying his best to maintain his disguise. He knew he couldn't keep it up for long, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying! Sherlock and Molly both burst back into the room at the same time, Sherlock holding a can of ginger ale. He wasted no time in handing The Doctor the can, which he downed half of before pouring the rest on himself. Molly shook her head in disbelief.

"You're insane you are!"

"That's true, but there isn't time for that!" Spluttered The Doctor, now doubled over in pain. "I need protein, something with protein!" Molly dashed out of the room again, Sherlock in hot pursuit. The Doctor staggered over to a table, bracing himself against it. This wasn't the first time he had been poisoned, but it still hurt like hell. Keeping the projection on was causing an extra strain, his head pounding like a drum. He took one last deep breath, letting his facade fall as he did so, leaving his scaled form completely exposed. He heard Sherlock burst into the room.

"Doctor, Molly's getting a boiled egg she packed, will that wor-" He stopped mid-sentence, probably due to seeing what The Doctor had become. The Doctor slowly turned to face him, making sure to keep his head low, trying to appear smaller than he was.

"Remember how I said I looked human? I might've lied..." Sherlock seemed to be in shock, his jaw completely slack as he looked at the creature in front of him. The Doctor was hit with another wave of pain and let out a yelp, his hind legs now giving out from under him. Sherlock remained speechless, watching The Doctor flail about. "Sherlock, listen. I can explain later, but right now, I need your help." That seemed to bring him back to the present.

"O-Okay. What now?" The Doctor was suddenly struck with a worrying thought.

"Can Molly deal with this?" Sherlock nodded without a second thought.

"She's tougher than you think." The Doctor snarled again, and Sherlock took a step back. He couldn't blame him for being afraid, this wasn't how he imagined showing him, that was for sure.

"Poison, sorry." He could hear Molly's footsteps approaching and he laid his ears flat against his head, bracing himself for her unavoidable scream. He could hear the muffled sound of Sherlock comforting her, but she didn't scream, to his relief. The Doctor slowly lifted his head, making eye contact with the girl. She was quite pale, her expression matching the one Sherlock had been wearing moments earlier.

"He's still the same, right down to the fact that he's dying." The Doctor was hit with another wave of pain.

"Alright, although this is touching and all and I am VERY SORRY that I hid from you. Now can we PLEASE address the fact that I AM DYING!?" That finally seemed to get their attention. Molly shakily held out a boiled egg, clearly afraid of him. The Doctor took it delicately in his teeth, fully aware of her fear. The second that she withdrew her hand, he snapped his head back and wolfed it down. The pain ceased for a moment, but The Doctor knew that it would only be a temporary break. "I need something salty, but not just salt." Molly nodded, color slowly returning to her cheeks.

"I've got a salted granola bar, will that work?" The Doctor nodded vigorously.

"Quickly though!" He could feel the pain returning, and it felt like his insides were melting. She unwrapped it and tossed it to him. He snatched it out of the air, finishing it in less than a second. The pain stopped for a moment, but then it doubled and intensified, sending streaks of fire throughout his being. He felt the air leaving his lungs, his vision growing blurry and his tongue lead in his mouth. "I need a shock, any kind of shock will do!" The Doctor tried to stagger forward, but his feet just slid out from under him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying not to concentrate on the pain. Trying not to let panic get the best of him. His ears were ringing, and he was vaguely aware of someone shouting at him. Sherlock's voice cut through the noise of his thoughts.

"Doctor, you need to open your mouth!" The Doctor obeyed without hesitation, though he didn't open his mouth to its full extent, knowing that would probably scare him. Something plastic was shoved into his mouth along with the order to bite it. He bit down hard, and sparks exploded in his head. His eyes flew open as well as his jaws, a foul smelling smoke billowing out from between them. Molly and Sherlock were standing flat against the wall, their eyes not leaving him for a second. He coughed a couple times before turning to address the pair of terrified humans.

"I think..." He rose to his feet and stretched his legs slightly. He grinned lopsidedly, but stopped short when he saw the expressions of the others drop at seeing his teeth. "I'm gonna be okay!" He took a couple of shaky breaths. That had been TOO close. Last time he had been poisoned he had managed to perform a detox pretty quickly, but this was the longest he had ever had it in his system

. "Pretty sure that was some form of cyanide." More black smoke curled from his mouth and he winced.

"Potassium Cyanide. Looks exactly like sugar. It would be easy enough to switch the sugar with a few packets of the stuff. And she said she spiked it with sugar to stay awake, that's a huge dose of poison." The Doctor growled slightly, the smoke from his mouth now collecting on the ceiling.

"I owe you both a huge thank you, along with an explanation." He then looked down, seeing the remains of what used to be a wire, now bitten in half. "And a new wire." Sherlock's expression darkened.

"An explanation would be in order." Molly nodded her agreement. The Doctor was quick to notice that she seemed to be more frightened of him than Sherlock was.

"Well, as you both now know, I'm not a human. I'm a Timelord from the planet Gallifrey. I shouldn't even be here, but a crash-landing dragged me into this universe so here I am. As far as differences go, I've got two hearts, and a lower body temperature. I'm a quadruped-draconian species, please don't call me a dragon. My spaceship is currently disguised as a blue police box and my human shape is a projection that I use to avoid causing mass panic every time I land. Does that cover everything?" Sherlock stared at him blankly, processing the huge amount of information.

"Everything except for the fact that the box is bigger on the inside."

"Right! Forgot about that." Molly was the first to step closer to him, though her hands were shaking.

"You're an alien?" The Doctor nodded.

"Do you need to sit down? I've had people pass out before, and I sincerely hope you don't." She shook her head.

"I'll be fine."

"Molly, look at me." She stared into his brown orbs, her hands clasped behind her back to try and stop them from shaking. "I'm less likely to bite you looking like this then when I look human." She gave him a shaky smile, he was making progress. "You didn't miss any cameras, did you?"

"No, they all sparked out when I pointed your..."

"Sonic screwdriver." Sherlock cut in. "Though I don't think that screwdrivers on Earth can cause cameras to turn off."

"Well, that's why I put emphasis on the SONIC!" The Doctor chanced a step forward, seeing if they would step back out of fear. Neither of them moved an inch, though Sherlock did flinch. "It can do quite a lot of things! Open doors, turn things on and off, good for hacking..." The Doctor started pacing, trying his best to keep his tail still. "I need a couple of minutes to let my projection cool down, that was quite the strain keeping it on like that, but I didn't want to scare anyone. This wasn't how I imagined showing you, believe me."

"Did you really intend to show us? Or did you only drop the disguise because of circumstances?" The Doctor stopped short. He sighed and turned back toward the man.

"Probably not..." He confessed, feeling a little sheepish. "Don't take it personally, this just isn't something I can show people without having a certain amount of trust involved." Sherlock nodded mutely, clearly thinking the whole thing over. He supposed it did sound mad, as this wasn't exactly normal so-to-speak. "Sorry for lying..." Molly smiled slightly.

"That's alright." He lifted his head, being careful not to smile, knowing that would scare her.

"Thanks!" She shuffled her feet, now examining the ground.

"Yeah, well, I can see why you'd try to hide it." He took a few steps closer, ignoring a warning stare from Sherlock.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone, I promise." Sherlock seemed to want him to back off, but he wanted to make sure she didn't see him as a threat. She stopped looking at the ground, now face to face with him. She stifled a gasp, and he honestly couldn't blame her for being scared. But what she said surprised him.

"I believe you." He smiled slightly, but not enough to reveal his fangs. She shakily rose her hand and put it on the side of his head, running her fingers against the furred ruff, mirrored on his projection through sideburns. "You're-You're real..." He pressed a little closer, leaning toward her almost like an affectionate cat.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock suddenly cleared his throat.

"I hate to interrupt your little moment, but the next clue is most likely near the sugar. We've already wasted some precious time." The Doctor broke away from Molly.

"You're right, sorry about that." Molly ducked, narrowly missing a smack from his tail when he whirled around. "Sorry..." He mumbled.

"It's fine, just don't knock anything over."

"On that note, I should try out my projection again, its had plenty of time." He closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling his quadruped form disappear to reveal a much slimmer humanoid in pinstripes. "There we go! Good as new! See!" He breezed past the pair of them, completely oblivious to their discomfort.

"Where's the sugar?"

* * *

John watched the madman conversing with the metal creature, the anxious feeling in his gut growing by the second. Donna had remained uncharacteristically quiet, though he assumed she was listening to the conversation as he was. They had been discussing potassium cyanide for the past couple minutes, and John was feeling physically sick. He strained his ears, trying his best to make out what words were being spoken. "Should we check on them? See if our... Surprise has been located?" John didn't like the way Moriarty said 'surprise'. Something told him that it wouldn't be a good surprise.

"YES. I WILL FIND THE SECURITY FOOTAGE." That was what Donna had referred to as a 'Dalek', something straight off the science-fiction channel. She had tried to explain to him what it was, but it all sounded crazy. Her worry did seem genuine, and her fear, though hidden well, was still present. The pair of killers sauntered into the room, though the Dalek didn't really have more than one form of movement.

"I figured you two might want to see this, or at least John." A screen flickered to life in front of the Dalek, and John could clearly make out what appeared to be the interior of Saint Bart's hospital. Everything in the room was still, and John frowned slightly. _Where was everyone?_ His question was answered when Molly burst into the room, looking around as if searching for something. Moriarty turned to the Dalek.

"Can we get sound?" The video froze for a moment, but when it resumed, a sound was present in the background. She pulled out an odd device with a blue light on the end and started to fiddle with it, muttering under her breath as she did.

"Button, button, there's got to be a button here somewhere-" Her ramble was interrupted by the device making a sudden noise. Donna tensed up when she heard it, and John could've sworn he heard her whisper 'Yes!' Molly took the rod and pointed it at the camera, causing the video feed to come to an abrupt end. Moriarty looked intrigued, peering at the holographic display closely.

"ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT TO A CAMERA." The image turned to static before it changed, viewing the room from a different corner. Molly approached it again, pointing the device with a bit more confidence.

"Don't see what getting poisoned has to do with security cameras. The Doctor better know how to fix these..." The camera blinked out again, and the display vanished. The Dalek turned its eyestalk to Donna, getting uncomfortably close to them.

"WHY DON'T YOU FEAR FOR HIS LIFE?" It demanded, the bright light causing John to squint. Moriarty removed her gag, and she did something that seemed to come from nowhere. She laughed, though not nervously. A real, heartfelt laugh. John furrowed his brow, unsure as to why she was so happy. They had just poisoned her best friend, but she was having a right riot.

"You can't honestly believe that you've killed him that easily, can you?" Seeing the slightly confused expression of the killer, she grinned broadly. "Oh my God you do! You really think he's dead! Well I've got news for you, he has a VERY long history of evading poisons!" The Dalek rolled back an inch, and Donna jumped on the opportunity. "He's not dead, and you know it! You better be scared!" The Dalek regained its ground, the eyestalk less than an inch from her face.

"DALEKS DO NOT FEEL FEAR!" Donna didn't even flinch, continuing to taunt the creature.

"That's foolish. That's just daft of you, you know why?" She gave it a moment to answer before continuing. "Because, DALEK, he's going to recover. He's going to be fine and he's going to solve your little puzzle, and then? Then he's going to rescue me, and you REALLY don't want to mess with him. I've seen whole armies turn and run when he stepped in their path, and you had better do the same!" John couldn't help but smile in spite of the situation, that was an impressive speech about The Doctor. Moriarty looked expectantly at her.

"That's it? Honestly Donna, I expected more from you." Her triumphant grin slowly faltered.

"What do you mean?" Moriarty started to pace.

"Just WAITING to be rescued?! No offense, but your so-called rescuer doesn't seem too cut out for the job." Donna shook her head.

"Believe me when I say he's tougher than he seems, he'll find me, you'll see." John closed his eyes, wanting to believe that what she said was true. He didn't care how he was rescued, but he hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

 _ **Where are you Sherlock Holmes?**_

* * *

 **The plot thickens... Better think twice before putting sugar in your tea! (Unless you happen to be a Timelord, of course...)**


	9. Shattered Trust

**Hey, it's me again! Not dead! I just wanted to give you all a heads-up regarding new chapters for this. I'm going on a vacation for spring-break (YAYYYY!) and I'm not sure if I'll get time to work on this between family visits, or if I'll have wi-fi... But the story IS NOT OVER! I'm having a whole lot of fun writing this, and I hope you have the same enthusiasm while reading this. It just might be awhile, that's all. Anyway, I love you all dearly and figured that you deserve to know what's up with the new updates. I'll see you in the next chapter, whenever that may be!**

* * *

The three of them power-walked through the building, The Doctor slightly ahead of the two humans. He did feel guilty for scaring them, but the only other option would've been death by cyanide. He was just glad that they didn't stop helping him when they saw what he was, though he wouldn't have been able to blame them if they had refused to help. Sherlock suddenly broke the silence with a question. "You took all the sugar, right?" Molly nodded.

"Yeah, there weren't many packets of sugar to begin with."

"That's probably for the best, we don't want anyone else to get poisoned." Sherlock frowned.

"Now is hardly the time for jokes Doctor." He coughed slightly, scuffing his shoes a little.

"Right, sorry." Molly suddenly turned, pushing open a door.

"That's the cafeteria, though it's deserted right now." Gray chairs were neatly set up next to pristine tables, all swabbed clean and left for the night. The Doctor glanced around the room, quick to notice the security cameras, strategically placed so nothing escaped their view. If he was going to cough up any more smoke, he was going to have to leave. Sherlock seemed to notice his discomfort at seeing the cameras.

"Better not pull anything."

"You don't say. I don't really want to be shipped off and dissected, thank you very much." He heard Molly snicker quietly behind him, and Sherlock just sighed.

"Look. I'm trying to save them in any way I can. Any form of cooperation would be APPRECIATED!" He snapped. The Doctor knew he should have seen this coming, he was just trying to help! Maybe his sense of humor wasn't appreciated by all, but it had become a bit of a nervous habit. This regeneration did seem to have a big mouth, and he supposed that there were always going to be people who found him annoying.

"That's how I cope with danger, try and make light of it." Sherlock didn't respond, so The Doctor continued. "I know what to expect, but my companions usually don't. I don't want them to get scared, so I pretend like I'm not." Sherlock ignored him, striding toward where the sugar had been. There were a couple scattered packets of cream and stir-sticks, but other than that, completely nothing.

"Where's the clue? There's got to be another clue here!" The Doctor leaned down to get a closer look, pulling out his glasses as he did so. He ran his fingers along the edge of the table, searching for any niches in the metal. "Try the sonic." The Doctor obliged, pulling out the device and pointing it at the table, hoping against all odds that something would blip. The scan brought up nothing. Sherlock noticed The Doctor's face drop and scowled, giving the table a kick. Molly looked between the two of them, her expression worried.

"Anything?" The Doctor sorrowfully shook his head.

"Nothi-" He was cut off mid-sentence by something vibrating in his pocket. Sherlock eyed him suspiciously, as if daring him to drop another bombshell secret. The Doctor dug a hand into his coat, trying to figure out what was going off. His fingers closed around the object and he pulled it out with a flourish, recognizing it immediately as the disc from before. Sherlock's eyes stayed fixated on the silver object, and Molly looked confused by its presence.

"What's that?" She asked, taking a nervous step backward. The device buzzed again, and The Doctor slowly placed it on the table. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, moving closer to The Doctor's side.

"Blocking the cameras." He whispered. The Doctor nodded, and Sherlock motioned for Molly to step closer. She obeyed, eyeing the device warily. The Doctor gave the button on the top a light tap, and a display flickered to life atop it. A set of numbers were ticking down, along with a few words.

 **TAKE A BREAK, YOU'VE EARNED IT.**

The Doctor leaned over the table, hanging his head as he did so.

"Six hours. Six hours for me to be nothing but useless." Sherlock shook his head.

"That can't be what it means." His voice sounded desperate, a sound The Doctor knew well. They stood in silence, just letting the meaning of the words sink in. The Doctor slowly extended his arm, pushing the button once more and turning off the display.

"Sleeping probably won't be much of an option, though it would do us both some good." He slid it back into his pocket, the sinking feeling in each of his hearts almost unbearable. Sherlock nodded curtly, his expression a mask.

"We should go back to the flat. Maybe we missed something." Molly cleared her throat, and The Doctor and Sherlock turned to her.

"Can one of you please explain what's going on with this case?" She asked, "Because something tells me it isn't the usual murder." Sherlock and The Doctor exchanged looks, neither wanting to put her in any more danger. The Doctor finally turned to address her, deciding to be honest with the brunette.

"John has been kidnapped, along with one of my friends." Molly visibly paled, a quiet 'Oh' escaping from her lips. "You were going to be the next victim, but I was poisoned instead. Not the best way of getting around it I'll admit, but it worked."

"I'm sorry... Is there any way I can help? Anything at all!" Sherlock shook his head.

"Stay here, and contact me if anything weird starts to happen." She looked like she was going to argue, but Sherlock cut her off before she could. "Please. I've lost one friend in the last twenty-four hours, and I honestly don't think I'd be able to cope with losing another." She sighed.

"Alright. But do call me if you change your mind, you got that?" The Doctor grinned.

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else." They were about to leave when Molly grabbed his sleeve. She took a deep breath when they made eye contact.

"I know you said you weren't a dragon and all, but dragons in legends were supposed to be protectors and guardians." The Doctor nodded slowly, and she continued. "And I just wanted to ask that you protect Sherlock, if it's not too much trouble. With John gone, there's nobody to keep him safe..." The Doctor smiled gently, touched that she cared so much about him that she was willing to confront what she thought was a beast.

"You have my word."

"Good." With that, Molly returned to her work. He exited the building to see a rather cross looking detective, though he supposed that Sherlock usually seemed cross.

"There's no point in trying to find anything else, we aren't getting any information to work with." The Doctor sighed, grudgingly admitting the fact to himself. There was nothing he could do. At least, not for six hours. It seemed like a long time, but he knew that it could pass in the blink of an eye. Sherlock seemed to be under the same impression. The silence was deafening on the cab ride back, neither wanting to admit how damaged they felt. Neither wanting to admit how they were practically useless. The Doctor was quick to exit the cab, wanting nothing more than to retreat to his TARDIS in peace, but Sherlock stopped him. "Upstairs. Now." The Timelord didn't resist, knowing that it would be pointless to disagree. He nearly bumped into Mrs. Hudson upon entering, and she seemed surprised to see him. He spoke before she had time to express her surprise.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson! Lovely morning, doncha think?" She smiled tiredly.

"Yes, I suppose it is." Sherlock stuck his head back down the stairs, looking slightly irritated.

"Doctor!" They made eye contact and Sherlock gestured toward his flat. Mrs. Hudson seemed to pick up on this.

"Do you boys need any tea?" Sherlock shook his head.

"No thank you."

"In that case, I'll get back to cleaning then." She gave them an over-the-shoulder look before finally leaving the room, the sound of a vacuum coming from around the corner. The Doctor hung his coat before following Sherlock up the stairs, unsure as to what exactly the detective had in mind. Sherlock crossed his arms, staring down The Doctor like he was a lab specimen.

"So." He began, now facing his mantle. "No more secrets or lies from you?"The Doctor sighed. He should've seen this coming.

"No, that would be all." His eyes drifted around the room, and he had just opened his mouth to ask a question when Sherlock cut him off.

"How many people here know?" The Doctor leaned back slightly toward the table.

"Just Molly, Donna, and yourself."

"Nobody else?"

"Nope!" Sherlock sat down on the couch, his hands pressed together under his chin and his eyes closed in concentration.

"You should tell Mrs. Hudson. You're under her roof and she deserves to know what she's getting into." The Doctor frowned, thinking it over.

"Are you sure?" Molly had taken it well, but that was because she didn't really have an option. "She won't have a heart-attack or...?" Sherlock opened one eye, not moving from the couch.

"She is one of the bravest people I know, she can take it. And if she faints, I'll catch her." The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but he knew in his hearts that Sherlock was right. How bad could it really be?

"Do you want me to... Y'know..." Sherlock sat up, looking at The Doctor with a hint of fear in his eyes. "I don't have to though, if you don't want or if there isn't enough room we can do it downstairs..." Sherlock slowly nodded.

"No, no there's room here. Try not to knock anything over..." The Doctor could hear the reluctance in Sherlock's voice, he clearly thought this was a bad idea.

"You sure about this? I don't have to if you're scared." Sherlock scoffed at the mention of his fear, and The Doctor couldn't help but smile.

"I'm not scared of you." He insisted, but The Doctor could tell he was just putting on a brave face. He slowly closed his eyes, feeling Sherlock's stare on him. His two legs became four and he opened his eyes again, curling his tail around his feet and sitting quite like a cat. He kept his head low, keeping eye contact with Sherlock. The detective remained mute for a moment, just taking it all in. "You looked bigger at the hospital." He finally remarked. The Doctor tried not to smile, but it was incredibly difficult.

"And you're sure she'll be fine?" He rumbled. Sherlock flinched when he spoke, probably the teeth he thought. Donna had taken a while to get used to his four-legged form, and she was around aliens on a regular basis! Something told him that Sherlock was going to take quite a lot longer to adjust...

* * *

It still came as a shock to Sherlock to see the creature sitting in his living room, even after the incident at the hospital. It unnerved him to see the powerful jaws moving up and down so fast, knowing that they could just as easily crush his skull. The Doctor was still rambling, something about how it was okay if he wanted him to change back, and that it was alright to be scared. He suddenly seemed to notice that Sherlock hadn't spoken, and his ears drooped. "I'll switch if you'd like, I promise it's alright." Sherlock shook his head.

"No, I'm fine, you're just... Still you." The Doctor barred his teeth in what Sherlock had decided was his attempt at a smile.

"Of course! I just look a little different, that's all!" Sherlock felt his insides turn to water. You're being paranoid. He scolded himself. The Doctor must've noticed his change in expression, and he stretched his neck closer to Sherlock. "Are you still sure?" Sherlock set his jaw. He knew she could take it. She lived with him after all.

"Mrs. Hudson?" He shouted. "I think that tea would be lovely." The Doctor nodded once, accepting Sherlock's decision.

"Would it be better if I moved... Or if I was lying down...?" Sherlock gave him a once over.

"The couch is free, probably best if you keep your claws under your body..." The Doctor nodded and carefully stepped over to the couch, his tread surprisingly light. His tail twitched a little, the bushy tip causing dust to fly from the end of it. The couch creaked and groaned as The Doctor settled down, stretching across the entire thing. His eyes followed Sherlock as he paced around the room, and to his surprise, he seemed concerned. Sherlock finally stopped, really looking at the creature sitting on his couch. His paws were neatly folded together and his hind legs were concealed by his tail. From a distance, Sherlock supposed he could be mistaken for a large horse, if his tail was tucked behind his body. His eyes, though bigger and more reptilian, were the same color and portrayed the same amount of intelligence. The colors on his pinstripe suit mirrored his draconoid form, and Sherlock suspected that it was done so his friends could easily bridge the gap between his two bodies. His ears sat atop his head, a spiky mane running down the length of his back, along with a few tufts of fur on the sides of his muzzle. One of his ears perked up, and Sherlock realized that he was listening to something.

"She's poured the tea... How am I supposed to drink it like this?" The Doctor's voice was nearing a whine, which Sherlock found rather amusing. _Definitely still the same._ Bigger? Yes. Scarier? Of course! But underneath the scales, it was the same mind. "You might want to go warn her..." Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, good idea." He kept an eye on The Doctor whilst moving to the door, not turning around until he heard the latch click. He slowly descended the stairs. What was he supposed to say? Hello Mrs. Hudson, your tenant is a dragon? That was stupid, he couldn't come off as stupid. Maybe it would be better if she just walked in... He was so deep in thought that he nearly collided with his landlady, who was carrying a tray with three cups balanced atop it. "Do you mind if I carry that?" He asked, trying not to let his tone show how worried he was. She looked a little suspicious, but let him take the tray.

"Is this one of your experiments?" Sherlock hesitated in the stairway.

"Something of the sort..." She sighed.

"If the fridge is full of body parts again, you're going to have to do more than just this to make up for it." She began to walk up the stairs, but Sherlock stopped her again.

"I just wanted to let you know that everything upstairs is safe, and that it would be best if you didn't scream."

"Sherlock, what have you got upstairs?" Her voice had developed an accusing tone, and Sherlock couldn't help but curse his luck.

"Nothing dangerous, I promise." She ducked past him, much to his dismay.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Wait!" She slowly turned back to him. "Please, don't be scared, alright?"

"Yes, alright!" Sherlock held his breath as the door was pushed open. He could only hope that The Doctor hadn't gone and done something stupid. He heard her stop dead in her tracks, and quickly followed her into the room, closing the door behind them. The Doctor (To Sherlock's relief.) hadn't moved an inch, and was watching them intently. She grabbed Sherlock's wrist and hissed in his ear. "Sherlock, what the hell is that!" The Doctor looked rather ashamed of himself, and he sighed a little. Sherlock couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for the creature.

"That... That would be The Doctor." Mrs. Hudson looked at him like he had just said he was from Mars.

"What do you mean that's The Doctor?! You've got a bloody dragon holed up in here!" The Doctor hung his head, sinking into the arm of the couch. Sherlock took a few steps toward The Doctor, and Mrs. Hudson remained frozen in the doorway. The Doctor raised his head, but didn't say a word, his ears still low.

"It's him." That seemed to bring her out of her trance.

"What are you doing!?" Her voice was reaching hysterical, and Sherlock was surprised that he couldn't hear her heart racing. Sherlock took another step, and held her breath. The Doctor gently moved his head toward Sherlock, his eyes unblinking.

"You can talk now." Whispered the detective, which caused the dragon to huff.

"Alright." Mrs. Hudson's eyes grew wide.

"You... You can talk!" The Doctor's head bobbed up and down.

"Yep." A note of concern entered his voice. "Are you alright?" She looked shocked by the question.

"No! I'm not alright, thanks for asking!" Sherlock guided her to a chair which she promptly slumped into. He offered her a cup of tea, and she took a few sips. Her hands were shaking, but that wasn't uncalled for. The Doctor and Sherlock made eye contact, and he seemed rather worried. Mrs. Hudson finally looked up, getting to see The Doctor in all his draconoid glory. "What are you?" The Doctor slowly started to explain what he was, but Sherlock didn't pay attention to his tale, as it was the same one he had told in the hospital. His focus was directed toward his cell-phone, and he was texting Mycroft.

 **Stop looking for the box, I don't need any information on it anymore. -S.H**

 **Why not? It's not like you to give up on something. -M.H**

 **Sherlock sighed heavily, he had hoped that Mycroft wouldn't question him.**

 **That's none of your business. You can leave the creature alone as well. -S.H**

 **Really? Why? -M.H**

He frowned, trying to think up a decent excuse. The only problem with that was the fact that Mycroft had seen him, which got rid of the 'There wasn't anything to worry about' excuse. He tucked it into his pocket, deciding to ignore his older brother for now. His phone buzzed again, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to answer it. Mrs. Hudson finally decided to speak, her voice wavering.

"You're an alien... I rented out a flat... To an alien!" The Doctor nodded again.

"Sorry I hid, I didn't mean to put you both in danger." Her face suddenly paled again.

"Is-Is Donna a timelord too?" The Doctor chuckled, each one rumbling in his chest.

"No, she's human. A good friend she is." Mrs. Hudson nodded slowly, her knuckles white on her teacup.

"Anything else I should know?" Sherlock mouthed the word 'Case' The Doctor sighed, his entire body going slack, right down to the tip of his tail.

"Donna and John have both been kidnapped." Her hands started shaking again.

"Can you save them?" Her question was directed at both of them, and neither knew how to answer it. The Doctor looked at Sherlock, emotions in his eyes that Sherlock didn't know how to name. Sherlock took a deep breath.

"I don't know." Confessing it didn't make it any easier, it only made it seem more impossible. "But we will." They had to. There wasn't another option, that was a fact. Mrs. Hudson smiled weakly, color slowly returning to her face.

"Oh, I don't doubt that. The kidnapper is the one who should be scared!" Sherlock tried to smile, hoping that what she said was true.

"Can you pass me a cup of tea?" The detective passed over the tray and The Doctor delicately took the cup in his clawed hands, trying his best to take a drink. He was surprisingly dainty, expertly handling the cup without spilling a drop. His ears suddenly shot up and he cocked his head, the two humans jumping at his sudden movement. His hackles slowly raised and his voice turned to a low growl. "Are either of you expecting anyone?" Sherlock immediately stiffened.

"How are they walking?" The Doctor now had his eyes closed, his ears twitching as he listened.

"Either a cane or an umbrella, not too heavy of a tread. Oh, hold on!" He moved his head slightly to the left before continuing. "Scratch that, it was definitely an umbrella. He just put it down. He's coming up the stairs..." Sherlock's eyes opened wide.

"You have to change back." The Doctor didn't question Sherlock's sudden demand and was back to his human form in less than a second. He made a slight attempt to fix his hair before finally deciding it was good enough. He fixed his gaze on Sherlock, and he looked rather amused.

"Who is it? You clearly know..." Sherlock scowled, pulling out his phone and reading the last message.

 **I'm coming over. You can explain yourself then. -M.H**

"MYCROFT!" He bellowed, the door swinging open as he did so. The smug voice that greeted him made him want to hit something, maybe the smug face that went with it.

"What gave it away?"

"The noise of your umbrella." Mycroft smiled, looking like he was about to say something before he noticed The Doctor.

"Who's he?"

"Friend." Mycroft seemed surprised at the use of the word 'friend', as it wasn't a word Sherlock threw around often. The Doctor stood and extended his hand in greeting.

"Hello! I'm The Doctor!" Mycroft frowned, but shook his hand anyway. Sherlock could tell that The Doctor would irritate his older brother even more than he irritated him, which was a concept he found rather amusing. Sherlock hid a smile when his brother turned back to face him, but his spark of joy quickly faded as Mycroft spoke.

"Is he trustworthy?" Sherlock frowned, his gaze flicking over to the alien before giving a quick nod. "Why don't you want any more information on the dragon?" The Doctor tensed up, and Sherlock avoided making eye-contact, knowing how betrayed he must feel. He cleared his throat and Sherlock took a deep breath, knowing full well what The Doctor was going to say.

"What dragon?" _Damn._ He had hoped that The Doctor would let it slide, but luck wasn't on his side. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"He hasn't told you?" The Doctor shook his head and Mrs. Hudson looked worried. Even she seemed to know this couldn't end well and she was quick to excuse herself. Sherlock secretly wished that he could do the same, but instead he listened to his brother give a detailed explanation of exactly what Sherlock had told him, right down to him asking about the box and the beast. The Doctor listened attentively, nodding along with the conversation, though Sherlock could tell he was still on edge and ready to run. "He said to leave it alone, which is why I showed up." The Doctor gave a slow nod.

"Interesting..."

"Mycroft, I asked that you leave it alone!"

"And the reason for that is..." Sherlock let out a noise of frustration, knowing that whatever he did next, a dragon would still be cross with him.

"Because I have other things to deal with!" He finally snapped. Mycroft frowned.

"Such as..." Sherlock felt his anger deflate like a balloon when he said the next sentence.

"John's been kidnapped." Mycroft looked startled.

"So has one of my friends..." The Doctor piped up, his hurt hidden well. He made eye-contact with Sherlock, and he immediately regretted it. His eyes said it all, and Sherlock was surprised at just how... Human he seemed. It only lasted for a second, Sherlock quickly looking in the other direction, inwardly cursing himself.

"Do you have any leads?" He nodded.

"Moriarty. He's back at it again." The Doctor sighed.

"Seems that we're a part of his game of puzzles..."

"Well, if there is anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to call in a favor."

"I don't NEED your help." Sherlock hissed. Mycroft rolled his eyes, turning his eyes to The Doctor.

"He always does this. If you need help, don't hesitate." With that, he spun on his heel and stalked off. The second the door closed, The Doctor cleared his throat. Sherlock slowly met his eyes, which were angry as he had expected.

"So... How long have you been waiting for me to put a toe out of line?" His tone was dangerously soft, like he was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I promise, I wasn't trying to shatter your trust in me." The Doctor stood up and started pacing around the room.

"Then how come you've been hunting me down?" Sherlock sighed.

"I wasn't hunting you down..." The Doctor made a non-committal noise, which made Sherlock even more uncomfortable. His next sentence was spoken just loud enough so that the detective could hear, but not so loud that it made The Doctor seem angry.

"How long have you known? He said he got the picture after he was told, meaning that you figured it out before I showed you at the hospital."

"The first day you got here. At two in the morning." He seemed confused for a moment.

"In the alleyway?" Sherlock nodded, all but trying to disappear into his coat. "Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I don't know what to do! Alright!?" The Doctor was taken aback for a moment, but he was quick to recover.

"So you asked your brother to declare a dragon-hunt? Is that it? Waiting for me to do something bad so you could set the entirety of Great Britan on my trail!?"

"It isn't like that!" He insisted. "I didn't know what you were, or what you wanted, or what you were going to do and it scared me, alright!?" Hearing all of this out loud made him realize how petty it all was. "And I'm sorry." The Doctor didn't say anything, his head bowed slightly in thought.

"Suppose that you know about the wings then." He commented dryly. "I'm going to go fix up the TARDIS, world hopping does a number on her." He left without looking back, clearly distraught. Sherlock groaned and slumped into a chair, holding his head in his hands. He really hadn't meant for it to come out like that, but it all happened in a blur. He knew that he'd need The Doctor's full cooperation, but it suddenly seemed like that was going to be very hard to get...

* * *

The two hostages were becoming increasingly tired of waiting to be rescued, so they figured that it was high time for an escape attempt. The only problem with that idea was the heavy rope holding them in place. Both Donna and John had been fiddling with the knots for nearly an hour, and they were finally getting some results. John was the first one to be free of his binds, and he was quick to help Donna with hers.

"What now?" She whispered, rubbing at her wrists, trying to get her blood flowing at a normal rate. John surveyed the room, looking for any potential exits.

"I thought you had a plan!" She looked confused.

"What made you think that!?" He started pacing, still holding onto the hope that a potential escape exit would come into view.

"It was your idea to stop waiting!"

"Well, I thought we'd have a plan by the time we got free!" She whisper-shouted, both of them keeping their voices down due to the fact that neither of them knew where their captors were currently located. That was yet another detail they had overlooked when trying to escape, and both of them were currently realizing that they had no idea what to do now that they were free. Donna's eyes nervously darted around the room and she strode over to the door, trying the handle. Locked. John tried his pockets, even though he knew that he had been stripped of anything even remotely useful. Donna seemed to come to the same realization, looking utterly defeated. They had hope for only a few seconds, only to have it dashed to pieces yet again. They sat back down in their chairs, both thinking hard about what they were supposed to do. A sudden sound from outside caused both of them to press their ears against the door, listening to the conversation between killers. John immediately recognized the voice of the Dalek.

"WHAT IS OUR NEXT MOVE?" He heard faint laughter from outside.

"We wait for them to start fighting, six hours should be more than enough time to have them at each other's throats. As for the victim, someone else close to Sherlock would be perfect. Probably that idiot D.I at Scotland Yard." The sound of their voices started to fade as they walked away from the door. The pair of them sat by the door in silence for a minute, until John decided that he could use a bit of a conversation.

"How do you know so much about the Dalek? You seem to be an expert." She chuckled weakly.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Even I find it hard to believe sometimes, and I'm living it."

"You may as well tell me. Looks like we'll be staying here for a while." Donna slowly started to tell him of The Doctor, and how he wasn't human and how they had been on such amazing adventures. John listened attentively, even though it sounded completely insane to him. He had thought Sherlock was crazy, but this story was backing up his claim that The Doctor wasn't what he seemed.

"There's one thing that isn't making sense though..." John looked up. "The Doctor said that Daleks showed no mercy, and that they'd kill us on sight. Why hasn't it killed us yet?" John had just opened his mouth to answer when the heavyset door swung open, revealing the Dalek in all its glory. It rolled into the room, Donna and John flattening against the wall.

"ESCAPE IS NOT AN OPTION." It blared, its eyestalk uncomfortably close to the pair of humans. "YOU WILL STAY HERE. THERE IS NO ALTERNATIVE." That's when Donna decided to speak up, much to John's dismay.

"Why haven't you just killed us then? That just seems to be easier." It seemed to take offense to this.

"YOU ARE NOT IN A POSITION TO MAKE DEMANDS." She set her jaw.

"Yeah, I know, but why not?" Moriarty sauntered into the room.

"That would be because of me. It wasn't easy to convince it, but I managed to make it into a game."

"That's sick!" Moriarty grinned, his eyes widening as he leaned close to her to speak the next sentence.

"I know..." He pulled a cloth out of his pocket with a flourish, pressing it against John's face before he could react. The world went fuzzy as he left the realm of conciseness, his body hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. Moriarty whispered in his ear before he blacked out completely, words that chilled him to the bone.

 _ **"This is my game, and believe me, I WILL win..."**_


	10. Old Habits

**Yaay! Another chapter! Anyway, this author's note is different than it was when this was first posted, and here's why! The formatting on this chapter got reaaaallly screwed up somehow between my text document and this website, but that's all fixed up now :) Anyway, won't keep you waiting for any longer. Enjoy!**

Sherlock paced the flat, the fact that he didn't know what to do driving him absolutely insane. He had tried to think of a way to get The Doctor to trust him again, but nothing seemed plausible. He was never good with emotions, the fact that an alien was better at dealing with them than he was making him even angrier than he was already. It was a weird mix between anger and confusion, one that he was quickly discovering to be a nuisance. He let out a noise of frustration, stopping his pacing to give the couch a hearty kick. He rubbed his sore foot, flopping on the couch. He placed his hands under his chin and tried to concentrate on finding a solution. John was always better at dealing with this sort of thing than he was.

 _What would John do?_

Sherlock, of course, knew that John would make him apologize to The Doctor. Much to his annoyance, that was panning out to be the best option. He finally sprang to his feet, his mind made. As much as he hated to do it, The Doctor might give him a second chance if he asked for forgiveness. He planned out what he was going to say as he walked down the stairs.

Apologies were just a few words strung together, right?

For someone as smart as him, it couldn't be too challenging. He knocked on the door of The Doctor's flat, wondering if the alien would open the door or not. Much to his dismay, the door remained closed. Sherlock slowly turned the knob, surprised that it opened. He thought that The Doctor would've locked it, but he had been wrong quite a lot as of late. He could hear a good amount of banging coming from down the hall and he slowly strode into the flat, making his way toward the blue box sitting across from him. The door was propped open with what appeared to be a stack of books, untitled with swirls serving as the titles. He stuck his head through the door, and even though he had seen it before, it still amazed him. The sandy columns, the shining lights, the way the ship seemed to be... Alive... It hummed slightly when he entered as if to acknowledge his presence. His gaze dropped to see The Doctor's cream converses sticking out from under the console, hammering at the bottom of his machine with an alien tool. Sherlock was about to make his presence known when The Doctor stuck his hand out from under the controls.

"Pass me the wrench, would 'ya?" Sherlock stiffened, hardly daring to breathe. The Doctor slid out from his current position, his hair somehow messier than usual and his glasses askew on his face. He grabbed a slender silver tool with a glowing green end before disappearing back under the console, not looking too closely at the detective as he did so. Sherlock took a seat on the tattered yellow sofa in the corner, watching him work. The hand returned again. "Put this one on the console, switch it for the sonic screwdriver." Sherlock delicately took the tool, frowning as he looked at it.

 _It definitely wasn't a wrench from Earth..._

He decided to put it down without fiddling with it, swapping it and the sonic screwdriver, giving The Doctor his device. He heard the familiar noise the tool emitted as the alien continued to work, the silence between them becoming uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock mumbled, his head hung. The Doctor tensed but didn't say anything, continuing his work, tension thick in the air. "I didn't want to hurt you." He heard a sigh from under the controls.

"I know." He stuck his hand back out. "Pliers." Sherlock gave him the tool without hesitation this time. A few snips were made before The Doctor spoke again. "I don't know if I should be mad at you or not." Another snip. "On one hand, you were doing what you thought was right, which is respectable." Snip. "On the other hand, you went behind my back and tried to get me hunted down..." His voice trailed off as he continued working. "Sledgehammer." Sherlock made to get the tool but stopped short when he heard what was said.

"What?"

"Sledgehammer. Big, heavy... You have them on Earth, don't you?" Sherlock saw it sitting on the floor and picked it up, trying not to drop it.

"Of course we have them," He said with a grunt. "I just didn't think you'd need one on a spaceship." He put it in The Doctor's outstretched hand, wincing when the banging started. The Doctor let out a noise of frustration, crawling back out and giving the console a whack with the tool. The machine hummed and he seemed satisfied, setting the sledgehammer down on the mesh flooring.

"There, that should keep us up and running for a while!" The machine hummed in approval again, causing The Doctor to smile. He suddenly turned to Sherlock. "Do you mind if I..." He then mimed claws with his fingers. Sherlock nodded.

"You don't need my permission." The Doctor took a step away from Sherlock before changing shapes, which Sherlock appreciated. The beast sat and curled its tail, one ear flopped at an odd angle.

"I don't show people what I really am easily, just so you know. But I think..." The Doctor took a deep breath. "I think I can give you a second chance. You did try and fix what you had done." Sherlock felt relief wash over him like a wave.

"Good." The Doctor smiled.

"Yes, it is good, isn't it? But we have more pressing matters to deal with!" The Doctor sprung toward the disc which he had left on the console, giving the button a light tap. "Four hours..." He mumbled. "I can work with four hours!" He bounded to the other side of the controls, using his four legs to his advantage as he hit multiple buttons at once, using his tail to keep his balance.

It seemed weirdly... Natural, like it was normal to see a dragon in a spaceship! "Sherlock! Red button!" Sherlock's eyes flew across the controls, trying to pinpoint the button. "Anytime now!" He finally found the button, hammering his fist into it.

"Got it!" The Doctor leapt to the monitor, hauling it in his direction. He peered closely at it, Sherlock leaning in to get a better look. "What exactly are you trying to do?" The Doctor flattened his ears against his head upon seeing the results, a faint growl of frustration escaping from his throat.

"Well, I was TRYING to trace the signal, as this is updated live. But every single letter in the message comes from somewhere different!" His claws scraped down the outside of the console, his head low. "I know who he's working with Sherlock. I've known since the note." Sherlock frowned.

"So I wasn't the only one concealing information then." The Doctor's body went completely slack, right to the tip of his tail.

"Only because I wanted to keep you safe." Sherlock didn't speak, waiting for The Doctor to say the next word. "The thing he's working with is called a Dalek, a creature born of pure hate. They exist only to kill and have no emotions at all. They are the reason I'm the only Timelord left." He said the last sentence quietly, it was clearly a sensitive topic. The Doctor suddenly leapt up, fumbling with his machine again. "Maybe it's a code!" Sherlock frowned, that seemed highly unlikely. He looked at The Doctor and realized that he knew it was hopeless as well. That didn't keep him from trying though, which Sherlock had to admit was admirable, even if it was pointless.

The console flashed red and The Doctor let his body go completely slack, his ears low and his eyes closed. Sherlock didn't know what to do, and it was killing him. The Doctor started pacing around the console, his tail thrashing like that of an agitated cat. The Doctor suddenly sprung back to the console, explaining what he was trying to do at a million miles per-hour while flipping switches. "Coordinates! They could be a set of coordinates! Or maybe more than one set, like a puzzle!" A desperate tone had entered his voice, and Sherlock took a step toward him.

They held eye contact for a few seconds too long, long enough for the detective to figure out exactly how the alien felt. Even though he wasn't human, he knew the expression on the scaled face well. He knew The Doctor knew it was hopeless, that there weren't any hidden messages in the numbers because the expression he saw matched the one he had seen in the mirror mere moments ago. It wasn't the way he held his head that gave it away, it was the desperate look in his eyes. A mix between anger, confusion, and... guilt. Sherlock was slowly coming to the same terrifying conclusion and he felt his heart grow heavy.

He knew The Doctor knew it was hopeless, that there weren't any hidden messages in the numbers because the expression he saw matched the one he had seen in the mirror mere moments ago. It wasn't the way he held his head that gave it away, it was the desperate look in his eyes. A mix between anger, confusion, and... guilt. Sherlock was slowly coming to the same terrifying conclusion and he felt his heart grow heavy.

"We both know there's nothing there." The Doctor quickly looked away, confirming Sherlock's statement. The Doctor idly checked the time again. Sherlock knew he only did it to distract himself, even for a moment.

"Five hours left. You would think that we'd have spent at LEAST two hours worrying..." His joke fell flat, his voice nowhere near the cheery tone he had come to expect from him.

"You would think..." Sherlock echoed, his mind going blank as he tried to figure out what he was going to do with himself for the next five hours. The Doctor cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had been enveloping them.

"You should get some sleep..." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. It was true that he was tired, but it wasn't something he wanted to admit.

"You must be as well." The Doctor shook his head.

"Nope. I don't need to sleep as much as humans, and I've been sleeping more than normal lately." Sherlock frowned, furrowing his brow as he did so.

"Do you really expect me to sleep?" He tried to keep the tiredness out of his voice with little success. The Doctor sat, moving his head so it was level with Sherlock's.

"No, but it would be good if you tried. I promise I'll come and wake you when the timer runs out, or before if you wish but you should REALLY get some sleep. Can't have you falling asleep when we're saving the pair of them." Sherlock looked for a point to argue, but he couldn't find anything wrong with The Doctor's statement. That's because you're tired you dolt.

"Fine. Wake me up early." With that, he turned on a heel and left. He heard The Doctor sigh once more and glanced back to see him slump to the floor, fiddling with the disc with a claw and making cross noises in the back of his throat. He was clearly still incredibly puzzled by the disc, his left ear, and his tail twitching as he thought. Sherlock didn't look back again, closing the TARDIS door with a crash much louder than he had anticipated.

He winced at the loud noise, and he was quick in locking the door to The Doctor's flat before unlocking his own. He scaled the stairs without stopping to take off his heavy coat and scarf, both of which he had been wearing all day. His body moved of its own accord, his muscles stiff and sore from being on his feet for so long. He slumped onto the couch, closing his eyes, though he wasn't sleeping.

Sleep wasn't something he planned on having until John was safe.

 _There's a needle behind the skull..._

 _And your nicotine patches aren't far..._

He chased those thoughts out of his head.

 **John wouldn't want me to.**

His eyes opened and drifted toward the mantle, the skull staring back at him as if daring him to take a step toward it.

 _John isn't here anymore..._

Sherlock rolled over, trying to block out the noise of his own thoughts. Trying to escape from the temptation his mind offered. That didn't stop him from sitting up and pacing over to the mantle. From closing his fingers around the needle. He could feel his willpower crumbling as he moved throughout the flat, picking out the rest of his hidden stashes.

He sat back down, his lap full of items he had promised he would never use. He had promised John he would stop, but that didn't matter now.

 **Don't think like that.**

 **You can save him.**

But could he really? Could him and the alien manage to save him? He ran his finger along the edge of the needle, thinking of just how simple it would be to give in. It could help with the case, give you some new insight... No! That was the same as admitting defeat. That was, in fact, the same as giving up on The Doctor. He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of giving up, and he knew that it was the same as giving up not only on The Doctor, but on John and Donna. He had to stay hopeful. The voice still nagged him.

 _Can you really trust him?_

 _You hardly know him._

 _And do you really think they're even still alive?_

 _They could be dead and neither of you would know._

His head throbbed as he tried to figure out what to do with himself. He couldn't give up, not yet. Still, the needle was tempting... He held his breath. One shot surely won't hurt... He took another look at his pile, memorizing the shape of each item as he took in the sheer amount of contraband. Maybe more... He did have quite the array of substances, and he knew that anyone who knew him would have his hide if they found out just what he was harboring in 221B. Still, he reached for the needle, taking a deep breath and preparing to plunge it into his waiting arm.

What's the worst that could happen?

* * *

The Doctor, admittedly, was surprised that Sherlock actually agreed to try and get some rest. The detective had been quite stubborn and it had come as a nice surprise to have him agree to something he had said regarding his health. He turned his attention back to the problem at hand, namely, the disc in his palm. He had run every protocol he could think of, trying his best to figure out what exactly it was without success. It was becoming incredibly frustrating not knowing what was going to happen next, and it was something The Doctor was hoping he could put an end to. That being said, nothing new had happened with the disc, much to his frustration. All the information from the scans had proven to be useless, telling him details he had already known.

Things like: Iron exterior. Dalekanium core. Copper wiring. Chip from the seventy-sixth century.

 _More like complete annoyance..._

He tapped on it again. Four hours and forty-three minutes.

 _And twenty-six seconds._ He added in his head. He decided that maybe a walk would do him some good and had just begun to stretch when the TARDIS let out a chime, lighting up a corridor that he was presumably supposed to walk down. The Doctor stood and stretched his legs, striding down the corridors of his ship, wondering where exactly it thought he should go.

He didn't doubt its judgment, but he was curious. He kept his tail off the floor, his ears bolt upright, just listening to the sounds his ship made. He let thoughts of the kidnapping drift away, knowing what the TARDIS was trying to do. She knew him too well. His talons clicked on the floor and he made a mental note to try and keep them in check. They were becoming annoying as Donna always pointed out.

He half expected her to come waltzing around the corner to shout at him for leaving her for so long. He let himself live out that dream, and he realized just how much he wished that was true. He truly did miss his ginger companion, and his hearts hurt when he thought about the fact that she might be gone. He shook those thoughts off, deciding not to dwell on something he didn't have the power to change. He wasn't giving up, merely letting himself cool off before the next barrage of guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. He quickened his pace, letting the light from his ship lead him. To where he didn't know or care. All he knew was that his companion was in trouble, and he couldn't help at all. He felt his tail start to twitch in agitation and willed himself to stop, knowing that it irritated Donna to no end when she narrowly avoided getting hit. He recalled one particular incident where she had been hit (completely by accident) by his tail. She was cross, to say the least. She, of course, had hit him back. One thing

To where, he didn't know or care.

All he knew was that his companion was in trouble, and he couldn't help at all. He felt his tail start to twitch in agitation and willed himself to stop, knowing that it irritated Donna to no end when she narrowly avoided getting hit. He recalled one particular incident where she had been hit (completely by accident) by his tail. She was cross, to say the least. She, of course, had hit him back. One thing lead to another and by the end of the night they were both doubled over in laughter, the argument in the past. He found himself smiling at the memory, glad that she hadn't been offended by the accidental smack. He was so busy thinking that he didn't notice that he had run out of the hallway and had walked into a dark room. His eyes were quick to adjust to the light and he found himself giving a sad sigh as he realized where the TARDIS had brought him.

"Of course..." He ran his clawed hand over the wall, smiling when he found a lightswitch. It only took a quick flick to flood the room with light, causing him to squint as his eyes adjusted yet again.

The wooden floor creaked as he ventured further in, scanning the familiar items on shelves and messily scattered about. Photographs, old and new were plastered across the walls, some in better states than others. He found himself repositioning a newer one, making sure it wouldn't fall. It was a picture of him and Donna, after a particularly dangerous excursion to a planet The Doctor had sworn was safe. The bounty on their heads was quite a handsome fee, and she had jokingly suggested turning him in. She had taken a picture of the two of them next to their respective wanted posters, both pointing at the paper with ridiculous grins on their faces. Sure, their lives had been in peril, but it had been fun!

He smoothed it out on the wall, moving on to look at something else in the room. His companions had often joked about the fact that dragons had hoards, suggesting that he had a secret room dedicated to one thing. They seemed to find it endlessly amusing to try and guess what he had been hiding in the depths of his ship, and most of them had gone exploring to try and find his stash. Rose had managed to find his collection of bath sponges, which she had teased him about to no end, but the TARDIS had kept the third-level bathroom hidden to the rest of his companions since that incident.

He cringed at the thought of the bathroom stocked full of them, but it wasn't his fault that he had gone to a planet where they thought he needed... A lifetime supply of sponges (He had tried not to read too much into it).

He continued to look around, memories swirling around him and being replayed each time he saw a snap. He nearly tripped over a long woolen scarf and wrapped it around his neck with a smile, remembering the companions who had met his fourth incarnation. He tried to take a step forward but found that his untrimmed claws had hooked in the scarf. He hit the ground with a crash, nearly knocking over a small table containing who knows what. He delicately unwrapped the colorful accessory, carefully draping it over a bookshelf before continuing to walk, chuckling at memories of other times that had happened.

He spotted something out of the corner of his eye and turned to see what it was. A vase was propped up in the corner, dust coating the outside in a fine layer, a few green leaves visible. He lifted the plant from its place, making sure not to damage a certain stick of celery. A dull white hat leaned against the vase, and The Doctor dusted it off with a smile, the cheery red band around it helping him feel just a little bit better. He placed it between his ears, not caring how ridiculous he looked in that moment.

Five would always hold a special place in his hearts, even if his fashion sense had been a bit... Off.

He set down the hat and returned the celery stalk to its place with an air of fondness. He didn't know half the contents of the room as it was constantly changing, the TARDIS picking certain items for it that he didn't notice until later, it sometimes took him years to find anything new.

He could see a brightly colored vest hanging in the corner courtesy of his sixth identity, a question-mark shaped umbrella propped against the side of it from his seventh. His gaze drifted to a recorder on an opposite shelf and he was quick to enable his projection and give it a try. After a few high-pitched shrieks, he got the hang of it, memories of how to play it flowing back to him. His second body had always played it to try and calm down, and now he could see why his younger self had done such a thing. He hesitated before he picked a melody. His fingers flew and he closed his eyes, letting the music carry him somewhere better. He had chosen a melody called 'River Flows in

He hesitated before he picked a melody. His fingers flew and he closed his eyes, letting the music carry him somewhere better. He had chosen a melody called 'River Flows in You', a song that originated on Earth. He remembered struggling to learn the notes and the movements, and yet now... Now he knew he would never forget how to play. He walked around absently, his eyes still closed, listening to the music he was creating. He found himself smiling at the claim he had once made that he couldn't dance, deciding that he would have to find the leather jacket soon. His shoes squeaked and he found himself spinning in circles, moving in time to the

His shoes squeaked and he found himself spinning in circles, moving in time to the rhythm of the music. His ninth self had been a good dancer, even if he had refused to admit it. He stayed twirling in his own world for a while, for how long exactly, he wasn't sure. His usual impeccable sense of time seemed to have left him on the exact second he entered the room, and he was okay with it. He held on to the last notes, his eyes opening as he finished. He returned the recorder to its rightful place on the shelf, deciding that he had to come back and try another song sometime soon. He was just about to leave when one more thing caught his attention. A purple jacket lay near the door, not a speck of dust on it. He felt a knot of guilt in his throat upon seeing it. He knew the TARDIS would never get rid of it, but it still hurt to see it lying there. He gently picked it up, letting himself remember a certain pink-and-yellow human.

Letting himself remember the girl he had died for.

He placed the jacket on the table next to the celery, smiling sadly as he did so. He abandoned the projection and left the room, knowing it would be there when he needed it again. It always was. Sometimes he chose to find it, but sometimes his ship moved it into his path when she thought he needed a pick-me-up. When he got to the console room he gave the controls a loving pat. "Thanks, I needed that."

The TARDIS hummed in response causing him to smile. He decided to check on the detective upstairs, knowing that he probably didn't sleep like he had been told to. The TARDIS doors swung open and he smiled upon realizing that Sherlock had been considerate enough to lock the flat, even in his less-than-stellar mood. He knocked on the door a few times, listening for movement. No answer. "Sherlock?" Still no answer. He cautiously tried the door handle. The door swung open with ease, much to the surprise of The Doctor. Something felt wrong, a feeling of unease not dissimilar to the one he had felt when Donna had been kidnapped. "Sherlock?" He kept his tread soft as he slowly crept up the stairs, ready to put up a fight if the detective had been attacked. The sight that met his eyes was not one he was prepared for. Sherlock was

No answer. "Sherlock?" Still no answer. He cautiously tried the door handle. The door swung open with ease, much to the surprise of The Doctor. Something felt wrong, a feeling of unease not dissimilar to the one he had felt when Donna had been kidnapped. "Sherlock?" He kept his tread soft as he slowly crept up the stairs, ready to put up a fight if the detective had been attacked. The sight that met his eyes was not one he was prepared for. Sherlock was

"Sherlock?" Still no answer. He cautiously tried the door handle. The door swung open with ease, much to the surprise of The Doctor. Something felt wrong, a feeling of unease not dissimilar to the one he had felt when Donna had been kidnapped. "Sherlock?" He kept his tread soft as he slowly crept up the stairs, ready to put up a fight if the detective had been attacked. The sight that met his eyes was not one he was prepared for. Sherlock was

Still no answer. He cautiously tried the door handle. The door swung open with ease, much to the surprise of The Doctor. Something felt wrong, a feeling of unease not dissimilar to the one he had felt when Donna had been kidnapped. "Sherlock?" He kept his tread soft as he slowly crept up the stairs, ready to put up a fight if the detective had been attacked. The sight that met his eyes was not one he was prepared for. Sherlock was

He cautiously tried the door handle. The door swung open with ease, much to the surprise of The Doctor. Something felt wrong, a feeling of unease not dissimilar to the one he had felt when Donna had been kidnapped. "Sherlock?" He kept his tread soft as he slowly crept up the stairs, ready to put up a fight if the detective had been attacked. The sight that met his eyes was not one he was prepared for. Sherlock was

Something felt wrong, a feeling of unease not dissimilar to the one he had felt when Donna had been kidnapped. "Sherlock?" He kept his tread soft as he slowly crept up the stairs, ready to put up a fight if the detective had been attacked. The sight that met his eyes was not one he was prepared for. Sherlock was

He kept his tread soft as he slowly crept up the stairs, ready to put up a fight if the detective had been attacked. The sight that met his eyes was not one he was prepared for. Sherlock was alive, but in a sorry state. The bags under his eyes were incredibly pronounced and he was surrounded by half-empty bags, some still sealed. At first, The Doctor was just confused. "Sherlock... You alright?" Sherlock rolled over in response. That's when he noticed the needle. His hearts froze when he saw it. It had taken a moment for the smell to set in as well, but now he was unsure as to how he had missed it. "Sherlock..." His voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. What did you say to someone who was probably higher than a kite? He cursed himself for leaving him alone for so long. He had read the books and knew about Sherlock's drug habit, why hadn't he stopped him?! He finally decided to repeat himself. "Are you alright?" Sherlock blearily opened his eyes.

Sherlock rolled over in response. That's when he noticed the needle. His hearts froze when he saw it. It had taken a moment for the smell to set in as well, but now he was unsure as to how he had missed it. "Sherlock..." His voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. What did you say to someone who was probably higher than a kite? He cursed himself for leaving him alone for so long. He had read the books and knew about Sherlock's drug habit, why hadn't he stopped him?! He finally decided to repeat himself. "Are you alright?" Sherlock blearily opened his eyes.

"What do you think?!" He croaked, closing his eyes after giving The Doctor a fearsome glare. The Doctor grabbed his shoulder, being careful not to jar him too much, feeling sick as he saw the nicotine patches on his arm.

"Sherlock, what did you take?" Sherlock glared at him, gesturing to the bags as he hissed the next sentence.

"What didn't I take? Figure it out." The Doctor sighed in defeat, scanning the bags with the sonic. The results made him gag, but he kept it inward. Yelling wasn't going to solve anything and neither was overreacting.

"Why?" He spoke softly, as if he would startle him with just a word. "Why did you do this for yourself?" Sherlock's answer surprised him.

"I can't show you. It's..." Sherlock paused for a moment, The Doctor could practically hear him trying to think up an explanation. "It helps me think." He finally admitted. "Mind Palace. You can't see it but it's there." The Doctor slowly nodded, even though it was wrong, a mind palace was a useful tool.

"Alright." Sherlock opened one eye a crack.

"That's it? Usually, I'd get quite the lecture on it." The Doctor slowly sat beside him, knocking the bags and the needle to the floor.

"Am I allowed to see?" Sherlock looked like he was going to contradict him for a moment, but then he seemed to remember that the man he was talking to was an alien.

"Fine. But you better not touch anything." The Doctor slowly pressed his fingers against Sherlock's temples, closing his eyes and breaking the barrier between Sherlock's conciseness, and his own. The first thing he noticed, was that he actually seemed to have a shape. The second thing was just how remarkably... Clean everything was. He looked down at himself and realized that he was spotless, not a speck of dust on his suit or shoes. The room was white with arching doors and windows, bright light shining through each one. The Doctor was suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to face Sherlock, who was also looking much better, dressed in gray.

"Impressive." He remarked, turning in a circle, taking in every detail of Sherlock's mind palace. Sherlock smiled. A real smile. It only lasted a moment before being replaced with the serious expression the detective normally wore.

"I should say so. Shall we?" The Doctor let Sherlock lead him through his mind, watching as the doors around them varied in size and shape. A few were open and he stole glances inside, some leading to leafy foliage, others to nothing but darkness. Sherlock noticed him looking into the doors and the corner of his mouth twitched downward. The Doctor suppressed a smile as more than a few doors around him swung shut and the corridors narrowed. Served him right for looking he supposed. Sherlock swung open a door which the pair of them walked through. The Doctor looked around. It seemed to be a replica of the hospital room they had been in when he was poisoned. He perched on the edge of the counter, swinging his legs as he waited for Sherlock to explain himself. "You can drop the projection if it helps you think." The Doctor slid to the floor.

Served him right for looking he supposed. Sherlock swung open a door which the pair of them walked through. The Doctor looked around. It seemed to be a replica of the hospital room they had been in when he was poisoned. He perched on the edge of the counter, swinging his legs as he waited for Sherlock to explain himself. "You can drop the projection if it helps you think." The Doctor slid to the floor.

Sherlock swung open a door which the pair of them walked through. The Doctor looked around. It seemed to be a replica of the hospital room they had been in when he was poisoned. He perched on the edge of the counter, swinging his legs as he waited for Sherlock to explain himself. "You can drop the projection if it helps you think." The Doctor slid to the floor.

"You sure?" Sherlock shot him a tired look.

"Do you really think I'd give you permission if I wasn't okay with it?" The Doctor grinned.

"Just checking!" He let his projection fall, giving a slight stretch. "Okay, what was it you wanted to show me?" Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and the room changed, now displaying pictures of people alongside their names. The Doctor, needless to say, was impressed. His tail started twitching involuntarily, but he didn't stop it from doing so, remaining focused on what he was seeing.

"I'm trying to narrow down the list of potential victims and was hoping that you would help." The Doctor read through the names listed, trying to recognize the faces. "He's going to try and hurt us as much as possible, meaning that anyone we know is in danger. Anybody missing?" The Doctor shook his head.

"Nope. Don't know many people here to begin with."

"Who do you recognize?" The Doctor stepped forward, tapping on the ones that he had met.

"Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Molly..." He looked at Sherlock. "I haven't met many people..."

"He wouldn't target anyone close to us, meaning that Mrs. Hudson is out." Her picture disappeared. "And Molly wouldn't be targeted twice." Her picture faded as well. "And Mycroft is incredibly well protected, so he probably won't be a primary target either." The Doctor nodded and Mycroft's face left the display. "That leaves Lestrade in the overlapping category." The Doctor gestured to the rest of the faces.

"Who are the rest of them?" Sherlock did a quick summary of the rest of the faces.

"That's Sergeant Donovan, works with Lestrade on cases." He gave the picture of a woman with frizzy hair a quick tap. "And that's... That's Anderson." A note of sourness entered his voice. "Bit annoying he is. Waste of valuable oxygen." The Doctor decided not to argue his normal 'Every human is important' case, deciding to let Sherlock continue. "And those are my parents."

"I'll have to meet them eventually." Sherlock flinched.

"Depends on how long you stay."

"Fair enough." He agreed. "But we're getting off topic." Sherlock nodded.

"Quite right." Everyone else disappeared from The Doctor's view, leaving only Lestrade remaining. Bits of information on him was located next to the picture. "The poison tea trick probably won't be used again, and if it is, it will be with something much more lethal."

"I might not survive another dosage, I got lucky that it was cyanide. Though cyanide isn't really all that lucky for most..." He noticed Sherlock's stare and stopped talking, shuffling his claws a little as he apologized. "Getting off topic. Sorry."

"It's fine just... Try not to ramble, wastes time." The Doctor shuffled a bit more, his tail hitting the counter with a thump.

"Noted." Sherlock remained quiet, shooting The Doctor a sideways glance. The Doctor knew he was being read. "What?"

"How can you be here? In my head?" The Doctor blew out a long breath of air.

"It's complicated..." Sherlock opened his mouth but The Doctor cut him off. "It's really, really, REALLY complicated. Very alien and ancient, not something I'm wanting to talk about. And I know you're clever, but I'm not sure if I can even explain it in a way that isn't entirely nonsense to you. I'm not insulting your intelligence, but those things don't exist on Earth just yet and-" He noticed Sherlock's expression. "Am I rambling again?"

"You could say that." The Doctor's ears perked up.

"Intelligent ramble?"

"Don't push your luck." The Doctor grinned. That was nearly a compliment coming from Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock was cut off from his next statement by a yawn.

"You need to get some sleep. No use in you being wiped at the crime scene." Sherlock looked like he was about to argue, but even he knew if it was affecting him in his mind palace, it was bad.

"Ready to wake up?" The Doctor nodded.

"Yup." The Doctor could feel himself becoming conscious as the detective woke up, both of them back to their normal state when their eyes opened. Sherlock still seemed reluctant to go to sleep, despite The Doctor's reassurances that he would wake him. He eventually obliged, but The Doctor didn't leave until his breaths became even. Three hours of sleep was certainly better than none at all, especially for a human like Sherlock. He retreated to the TARDIS, setting the disc down and resigning himself to wait and watch the numbers slowly tick to zero. He didn't know what would happen when they ran out, but it would take him one step closer to freeing the pair of humans, and that was good enough for him.

* * *

John was tired of being useless. Unable to help Sherlock, unable to try and understand half of what Donna was telling him about aliens and other worlds. Well, he was trying his best, but it was so much to take in at once that he found himself getting lost in thought whenever she mentioned it. He was brought out of his thoughts by a nudge from Donna. "You awake?" He nodded before realizing that she couldn't see him. He corrected his mistake.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." They had been tied back-to-back with thick chains bolted to the wall, which seemed more than a little bit excessive on their captor's part.

"What now?" The way she spoke the words made everything seem hopeless as though she had given up on their rescuers. John decided to throw a bit of a curve ball with his answer.

"Well, if I know Sherlock, he's probably halfway done figuring something out."

"Bet The Doctor helped him with the other half." John was surprised by this. He personally didn't think the detective and the alien had gotten along all that well.

"Really? It'd be a miracle if they weren't at each other's throats in my opinion." Donna laughed half-heartedly.

"Nah, he can work with anyone if it means he can save people. He won't let that get in the way of helping." He could practically hear her expression, one of hope and sadness, like when you think of someone far away. "He'll find us." She turned her head to try and make eye-contact with John. "Think we should try and get out again?" John took a moment to comprehend her question. One failed escape attempt was enough for him, and something told him that the chains would be a major setback.

"If you can get rid of these chains, we can go."

"Yeah, just gotta get my lazer eyes back in order."

"You're not serious." It took him about 0.5 seconds to realize that she was being sarcastic.

"Do you honestly think that I wouldn't have used them by now?!" John stayed silent, deciding not to make a bigger fool of himself than he already had. "Oh don't tell me you actually believed that!"

"To be honest, it's one of the least crazy things I've heard recently..." She, however, wasn't listening. She was too busy laughing at him to notice. He frowned and sighed, deciding that talking wasn't something that he should do. She finally managed to collect herself.

"Sorry, just needed a laugh..."

"That's fine. I'm used to being laughed at."

"You're clever, got yourself a proper job." She chuckled slightly. "Don't just call yourself 'Doctor' because it sounds important, do you?" That made him smile.

"Lots of hard work, got through it all eventually though!"

"He's probably gone through all that at least once. Nine-hundred odd years, that must've kept him busy for at least a week. Two days maybe." The last remark made John go stiff, and Donna realized her error immediately.

"We've got about one day left now. And he's targeting Lesterade next..."

"The Detective Inspector, right?"

"That would be him."

"Well, they've certainly figured it out by now! They're both geneiuses." John smiled.

"That's very true, though one is defienently more ego-driven than the other." Donna snorted.

"Give you three guesses which one." They talked for a while longer before deciding that it would be good to see either one of them in the dark cell. Preferably not emprisoned with them, of course. Though at this point, seeing another friendly face, alien or otherwise, would be a miracle in itself.


	11. Shot in the Dark

**Did you miss me? It has been MONTHS since the last update, and I'm SO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT! I'm trying to get a somewhat-normal update schedule going, so you can expect to see the next chapter soon! See you in the next chapter!**

* * *

The Doctor blinked slowly, squinting at the light filtering through the curtains. He moved an arm to block the brightness, dust flying from his suit as he got his bearings. He slowly stood, stretching out his legs, giving a slight yawn, and idly checking the disc for the time. He nearly dropped his projection when he read it, shooting to the couch to wake up the sleeping detective.

 **02:00**

"SHERLOCK!" The detective jolted upright, his eyes wild, messy hair hanging over his eyes in curls.

"What?!" The Doctor tossed him the disc, watching as his pupils dilated in the light, realization dawning on his features. His hearts were beating in double time, each beat making him painfully aware of the time as it passed.

 **01:45**

"Any idea what to expect?" He asked, trying not to let his nervousness show in his voice. Sherlock shook his head, but didn't speak, fixated on the numbers as they ticked down.

 **01:30**

 **01:29**

He took a couple of deep breaths, all of the worst-case scenarios imaginable playing out in his head. What if it blew up? What if they had to choose who would die? He shot Sherlock a sideways glance. He couldn't be the one to end Donna's life, and he knew that Sherlock felt the same way about John, even if he refused to admit it. He forced himself to keep calm. He could get through it. For her. He had to.

 **01:15**

Sherlock took a couple of deep breaths, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. The Doctor felt a pang of sympathy for him. The drugs had taken quite the toll. They made eye contact and nodded slightly, just to acknowledge that they were both in for the long haul, not going to give up, and willing to do some pretty insane things if it meant saving their friends. He let his gaze change, watching the clock with anticipation.

 **00:57**

He wrung his hands together, taking another deep breath. They could do this.

 **00:50**

Sherlock readjusted his hands under his chin and The Doctor held his breath, the tension killing him from the inside.

 **00:45**

"We'll save them." Sherlock jumped at the sudden noise, but nodded once he understood the words.

"Obviously." He was trying not to seem worried, nine-hundred-odd years telling him that he had survived worse, and a voice in the back of his head listing off all the ways that this was going to blow up in his face.

 **00:30**

 **00:25**

He rubbed his hands together and shifted his feet nervously.

 **00:20**

 **00:15**

 **00:10**

 **00:05**

"Ready?"

"Ready."

 **00:00**

A video sparked to life, John addressing them with weary eyes.

 **"Good morning, sleep well?"** He looked off camera for a moment before continuing. **"Anyway, we're down to one day. Clock's ticking Sherly."** The video fizzled for a moment, the speaker shifting as it did so. The Doctor struggled not to react at seeing his companion in such a sorry state.

 **"Well, we've got something that should occupy your time. Your good friend Lestrade is currently at a crime scene. If he says three nice things about you, he lives."** John took her place once more.

 **"The catch? Every time he says something undesirable, a bullet gets shot at him. You can't tell him what's wrong, and they have to be directed at Sherlock. Three nice things and he** lives **. You have half an hour."** With that, the display clicked off. Sherlock sprang to his feet, The Doctor following suit.

"Any idea where he is?" He asked, shouldering his brown coat and retying his shoelaces.

"Home break in. Texted last night but I ignored him." The Doctor nodded, bounding down the stairs in a flurry of motion.

"Right then, this shouldn't be so bad." Sherlock threw open the door, stopping to shoot The Doctor a deadpan look. The alien frowned. "So, it will be bad?" They stepped out onto the sidewalk, not stopping their conversation as they took off down the street.

"We don't exactly have the best track record together." The Doctor felt his hearts sink. This wasn't going to be easy. Sherlock led the way through the bustling street, people around them stopping to stare. The Doctor looked to Sherlock, who seemed to be trying to ignore them and half-smiled.

 _Fame and Fortune..._

Sherlock suddenly veered down an alleyway, checking over his shoulder to see if The Doctor was following before picking up speed, feet pounding the pavement below. The darkness of the alley was surprising, everything out on the street bright in comparison. Dull, tightly-packed bricks lined either side, moss clinging to the gray stone. A few open windows were visible from their current position, different personalities reflected in each one. A piano solo drifted from behind a pair of checkered curtains, a voice accompanying it, nailing every note. The Doctor wanted to stay but knew he couldn't waste any more time on things that didn't matter to the case.

The smell of paint drying hit him like a slap in the face. Looking upward, he could see an easel sitting out on an overhanging balcony, the rooftops of London created with a few brush strokes. A man sat next to his masterpiece, hands under his chin, piano music reaching his ears as he worked. The Doctor hardly realized that he had slowed until Sherlock shouted at him to hurry. Quickening his pace, he pressed on. Past more personalities and lives. Past more humans he would never meet, and somehow, in another world, it felt just like his own.

The sound of voices suddenly rose up through the hammering of footsteps, ones that The Doctor recognized. Sherlock's next word confirmed his suspicions.

"Lestrade." They dashed the remaining distance to the front of a building with green curtains billowing from shattered windows. Lestrade stood in the doorway, just leaving from the look of it. Sherlock straightened his back, trying to seem confident as Lestrade made eye contact with him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His tone was impatient, causing Sherlock to flinch.

"You texted..." Lestrade groaned.

"I expected that you'd show up on time." The Doctor took a deep breath. Getting a compliment was going to be quite the challenge.

"At least he showed up!" He supplied, causing Sherlock to nod rather forcefully. Lestrade snorted.

"Yeah, what's the occasion?" Sherlock blanched, but was quick to regain his composure.

"It's actually for an experiment." Lestrade's eyebrows shot up on his forehead, but he didn't interrupt as Sherlock continued with his explanation. "I need you to say three nice things about me."

"I'd rather die." The Doctor grit his teeth, eyes darting around frantically. That had to count as something less-than-desireable. His question was answered in the sound of a bullet hitting brick, causing all of them to jump.

 **BANG**

The disc in his pocket vibrated as if to say: **That was a warning shot.** "The hell was that?" Sherlock and The Doctor both looked at each other, not wanting to say the words. Lestrade seemed to pick up on this, his forehead becoming creased with wrinkles as worry blossomed on his face.

"Probably just the wind..." Mumbled The Doctor. Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Yes, yes you're right. Certainly. Now Lestrade, I need three compliments from you." Lestrade eyed the pair closely, waiting for one of them to cave and tell him what was wrong, but neither one did. The Doctor set his jaw, nervously wringing his hands behind his back.

"It's about complimenting things you dislike." Lestrade chuckled.

"Yeah, that's for sure. He does count as something I dislike I suppose." The device buzzed in his pocket again. Sherlock noticed it this time as well, both scanning the surrounding rooftops, looking for something to give them the position of the mystery sniper.

 **BANG**

The glass shattered in a nearby window, not close enough for the humans to hear it, but loud enough for the one alien. Lestrade closely examined The Doctor's nervous expression, trying his best to figure out what exactly they were hiding from him without success.

"Alright, you two need to explain what's going on." He snapped. The Doctor closed his eyes, trying hard not to let his worry show.

"Just an experiment!" Sherlock insisted, tightening his scarf. "Saying nice things about something you don't like."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Things like you."

 **CRASH**

The window of Lestrade's car fell into a flurry of shards, raining down on the sidewalk. That got his attention, hand flying to the gun at his waist. "Please." That caught him off guard, slowly lowering the weapon back into the holster. He was beginning to seem nervous, not responding in the sarcastic manner that he had been before.

"Why?" Sherlock took another deep breath in a way that showed just how irritated he was.

"Just don't ask questions." Cautioned The Doctor, letting the sentence out as one big breath.

"If I do it will you leave me alone?" The detective and the alien both nodded. "Fine." Lestrade then began to examine Sherlock with a critical eye, a frown tugging down on the corners of his mouth. "You're clever." The disc buzzed, affirming that the statement counted. "You always manage to help somehow." Twice... Sherlock continued watching the rooftops, not making eye contact with the inspector, keeping a watchful eye out for snipers. The Doctor nervously rubbed the back of his neck, shuffling his converse-clad feet to try and keep his knees from locking in place. Just one more... Lestrade narrowed his eyes. "You..." That's when The Doctor heard it. Nearly inaudible, but still present.

 _ **Click.**_

Eyes widening, he spun around, trying his best to pinpoint the noise. His hearts pounded heavily against his ribcage, knowing that that sound could only mean one thing. The shooter was close, only... There was nobody there. Another quick circle confirmed it. Not a human in sight. Brown eyes frantically checking every nook and cranny, coming up empty each time. Shifting his weight from side to side, he waited. Sherlock made eye contact with him, mouthing the word what when their gazes met. The Doctor shook his head dismissively, deciding that it was better if he didn't know. "You have a nice smile when you aren't being creepy about it." The Doctor shut his eyes tightly, clutching the disc in hopes that it would count. To his confusion, it vibrated twice.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The clicking noise returned, startling him and causing him to spin around yet again as an unseen trigger was pulled.

 **BANG**

Sherlock gasped, clutching his shoulder and gritting his teeth. It took The Doctor less than a second to fly to his aid, the detective leaning into his side, knuckles on his hand deathly white. Blood was slowly spreading on his coat, trickling between his fingers.

"Sherlock, let me see." The Doctor delicately removed his fingers, pulling them away to reveal a bloody hole. He bit his lip, pulling out his glasses and sonic screwdriver, completely ignoring Lestrade as he tried to see what was going on. He brought the sonic close, a quick buzz, and flash of light telling him what he already knew. It was bad. How bad? Well, it was a very, very, VERY long way from good. Sherlock picked up on his worry instantly.

"Not good?" The Doctor didn't meet his eyes.

"Very not good." Lestrade, meanwhile, was completely floored by their actions.

"What the hell are the pair of you doing!? We have to get him to a hospital!" The Doctor looked Sherlock dead in the eyes, his voice quiet enough so Lestrade wouldn't be able to hear.

"I can have you fixed up within the day if you can shake him off us." Sherlock inclined his head, and still leaning into The Doctor for support, he tried to properly stand.

"I'll be fine..." He mumbled weakly, trying to fake a smile without much success. Lestrade shook his head agitatedly.

"No. You need someone who knows what they're doing." The Doctor cleared his throat.

"I have all my equipment back at the flat, which is closer than the hospital. He'll be fine." Lestrade looked like he was about to argue for a split second, causing him to hold his breath. The Doctor had several options in that moment. One of them was to initiate a quick psychic link to push him in the direction they wanted him to go. He winced at the thought. That would have to be a last-resort and last-resort ONLY. Another, however, was to play his strengths. "You should go get your car fixed, I'll give him a lift." He stopped to consider the option being presented. After what seemed like a small eternity, he stepped back.

"On one condition." The alien replied without hesitation.

"Name it."

"Take care of him. Don't leave his bedside." The Doctor nodded.

"You go. He'll be fine." The Doctor watched him fly off down the street, pieces of his windshield falling off as he went. Sherlock tried to stand, knees rather wobbly, still using The Doctor for support. The Doctor quickly moved to brace him, ignoring the disc in favor of helping his friend.

"I can walk for a few blocks..." He took a step and promptly collapsed, a slight groan escaping his mouth when he collided with the concrete. The Doctor knelt beside him, gently helping him to his feet.

"Something tells me walking is out of the question. You're losing blood, fast."

"What else can I do?" He snapped, pulling away from the support the alien offered, using the cool bricks to hold himself up. The Doctor slowly started to walk alongside him, watching each and every step the other man took, ready to help him if he stumbled.

"I can carry you if you let me." Sherlock looked like he was going to put up a fight. "Please, just let me help you."

"Fine." The Doctor looked around cautiously, doing one final check to see if anyone was nearby before slowly lowering his barrier. Scaled form now in full view, he wasted no time in retreating around the corner, feeling incredibly vulnerable without his human appearance to shield him from any prying eyes. Sherlock slowly limped around the corner, falling into his scaly side with a grunt. The Doctor cocked his head, one ear flopped over as he tried to figure out the best way of helping him. Letting his legs splay from beneath him, he lay down like a dog.

"Can you get on?" Gingerly, Sherlock started to swing himself over the timelord's back, using his furred mane as something to hold onto. Inch by painful inch, he managed to grapple over the back of the creature, panting slightly as he lay there. The Doctor stood, making sure that the detective would stay on before breaking into a light jog. He felt Sherlock wrap his arms around his neck tightly, clinging to him for dear life as he picked up speed. Paws hitting the ground in a steady rhythm, he passed the pianist's window, music still resonating from the instrument being played. Looking up, he could still see the artist's easel set on the balcony. He sprinted on, jumping at every sudden noise, every shuffling step, every note on the piano.

Pealing out of the alleyway at a breakneck speed, he booked it for the last hundred yards to the flat, panting and out of breath by the time he reached the door. Sherlock slumped against the doorframe, sliding off the back of the alien, allowing him to boot up the projection and fish out his keys. Jamming them into the door, he swung it open with a crash. Together, they limped to the TARDIS doors. As Sherlock was still leaning heavily against him, he was forced to move slower than he would've liked through the winding corridors. Luckily, his ship seemed to have figured out the urgency that the situation presented, a chirping sounding in his ears before a corridor lit up for him. Murmuring a quick thanks, he continued pressing forwards.

"How you holding up?" Sherlock groaned in response. The Doctor grinned. "That's what I like to hear. C'mon, we're almost there." The few final steps were the hardest for them both, Sherlock constantly taking deep shaky breaths, all the while clutching at his shoulder like it was going to fall off. The Doctor finally threw open a white door, the detective stumbling inside, bracing himself against a bed. "Sit down." Sherlock sat without saying a word, slowly peeling off his coat, trying his best not to nudge his shoulder. Once he knew that Sherlock was sitting he began to search for something to help him. He began to rifle through a few cabinets lining the walls, shoving aside bottles of various sizes and colors.

"What exactly did you plan on doing?" The Doctor continued his search without pause.

"Well, I've got something in one of these bloody cabinets for dissolving projectiles like that one. Used in wars, but works really wel-HA!" Victoriously, he pulled out a bottle of a thick greenish goop and a roll of medical gauze. Quickly, he strode back over to the wounded man, unscrewing the cap of the salve as he did so. "It'll sting a little." He cautioned.

"Just do it." Taking a good dollop of the stuff, he began to apply it to the inflicted area, noting with disgust just how much of Sherlock's blood was now coating his fingers.

"Tell me if it hurts." Sherlock turned his head to drop him a dead-eyed stare.

"I've just been shot, do you really expect me to feel great?" Applying a bit of pressure, he began to count backward from twenty in his head. Sherlock closed his eyes, leaning up against his side. They sat quietly together in themed bayy. The ever-present hum of the TARDIS helping to calm the pair of them down after what they had just been through. As the twenty seconds passed, he continued pressing harder, hardly aware of the fact that he was holding his breath.

 _Three_

 _Two_

 _One_

Withdrawing his fingers, he gently wrapped the gauze around Sherlock's shoulder. Tying it into a messy knot, he tucked in the ends and made sure it was secure.

"That should be good in about ten-ish minutes." Opening his eyes, the detective closely inspected The Doctor's handiwork, looking as if he wanted to complain. They met eyes and The Doctor was quick to notice the concern there.

"Did the disc say anything?" The Doctor felt his body start freezing up on him as he recalled the faint buzz he had ignored. He decided to let his actions speak for him. Pulling it out from his pocket, he set it down on the floor in front of them, tapping the button with his shoe. He could feel Sherlock's glare on his back and tried to sink into the bed beneath him.

 **"Trying to ignore me? Tough."** They both stopped and stared. This wasn't a voice that they knew. A wide grin came into focus, a dark pair of eyes lit up with a maniac gleam staring at them. Unblinking. The Doctor felt a shiver run down his spine as his hearts sped up, the four-beat pulse thudding into his head. **"I'm changing it up a bit! Here's the deal, so listen up."** Sherlock was now sitting bolt upright, his shoulder forgotten as he took in the display. " **I can hear every word you say, so feel free to ask questions, yes or no only. You get twenty."** The Doctor slowly leaned forward, mind racing.

"Are they both still alive?"

 _Please... Please Donna, just hold on..._

 **"Yes."** Relief flooded him. He felt elated.

 _They're alive... Oh they're alive..._

Sherlock asked the next question.

"Are they unharmed?"

 **"No."** The Doctor inhaled sharply and balled his fists. He was about to speak again when Sherlock stopped him.

"We only get twenty and we know they're still alive. We don't need details."

"Good idea Sherly..." It taunted. The Doctor fought against his urge to throw the device. To shout in frustration. To give up. _Well, maybe not that far. You don't give up. You're The Doctor._ Forcing himself to keep his temper in check, he listened to Sherlock relay the next question.

"Are there going to be more puzzles?"

 **"Oh, yes!"** The Doctor felt physically sick at the glee in the voice of the murderer. He spoke softly.

"Is anyone else going to die?" The killer in front of him halted.

 **"That depends if you do a good job."**

 _Oh, ha ha ha._

"Don't test my patience." He growled, ignoring Sherlock's hand on his shoulder.

 **"Don't test mine."** The eyes displayed became cold and heartless. **"Follow my rules or they won't see another day."**

"Can we save them?"

 **"Why of course! I think you should have a little more faith in my honsesty..."** The Doctor grit his teeth. Stay strong. Get some useful information.

"Are you... Are you far away right now?"

 **"Not really. Smart question."**

"Are we going to see them alive?"

 **"I suppose."** Now, it was Sherlock's turn to be frustrated.

"That's not a real answer." He hissed, moving forward and accidentaly bumping shoulders with The Doctor. He fell back onto the bed with a loud thump and a groan.

 **"That sounds nasty. Hope it's nothing serious Sherly, I need you in prime condition when we hit the climax!"**

"Your sniper put it there." He grumbled, though not too loudly.

 **"To answer you question 'Properly', yes. You will."** The Doctor felt hope spark in his chest, a hope that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay.

"Why are you doing this!?" He snapped.

 **"That's not a yes or no question, but I'm going to answer it anyway. BECAUSE. I. CAN."**

The Doctor had to make a concious effort to keep from doing something rash, and truthfully, he knew he only managed to keep it together for her. "Thirteen questions left you two, better make it snappy!" Shifting uncomfortably, they continued to press him for answers.

"Are we going to see them exactly at the end of two days?"

 **"Yes."**

"Both of them?"

 **"Rendundant, but yes."** The Doctor heard Sherlock curse softly under his breath at the wasted question.

"Are you going to continue attacking people close to us?" He grinned.

 **"Why wouldn't I? I like watching you struggle. Although..."** The Doctor felt himslef tensing up, setting his jaw as he watched the man pretend to consider something. **"I may shake it up a bit, just to keep you on your toes."** They shared a nervous glance, neither wanting to call him out for answering dishonestly.

"Are you within walking distance?"

 **"Not presently."**

"Are you less than an hour away?

 **"Yes."** The Doctor slowly started to reach for his pocket, attracting the attention of the detective. Putting a finger to his lips, he continued rifling through his pocket. Sherlock turned back to face the display, stealing a few sideways glances at the timelord as he searched.

"Will you be targeting the same person twice?" The Doctor's fingers closed around the sonic, fishing it out with one hand.

 **"No, you don't need to worry about them at the moment."** Twisting the top of the screwdriver, he selected setting 73, pointing it at the disc and letting it begin to track the signal. The killer suddenly seemed to stare straight at him, anger flaring in his eyes. **"If you're trying to track me, I might have to go back on my promise of keeping them alive!"** He snarled, pulling closer to the camera. The Doctor froze, hand still clutching the tool. Sherlock tugged at The Doctor's arm, which he slowly lowered back to the bed, not putting away the screwdriver. Slowly, he relaxed his grip, putting the offending device back into his pocket. He could feel his hearts beating out of control, even though he was in no danger, every hair on the back of his neck stood on end, every muscle in his body tense and ready to run.

"We're down to seven." Sherlock whispered.

"Yeah, like I don't know that." The Doctor growled. He could tell him exactly how many seconds they had wasted, how many minutes she had been missing, how many hours he had blamed himself.

"Have you chosen your victim?"

 **"Do I look like an amateur? Of course!"**

"Is he someone that both of us have met?" Asked The Doctor, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

 **"Not that I know of, you know him Sherly!"** Sherlock grit his teeth at the use of that nickname, but stayed quiet.

"Is he somone Sherlock likes?"

 **"No!"** He replied in a sing-song manner, the cheerful tone he displayed making The Doctor want to hurl the disc across the room.

"Are you going to reuse methods of death?"

 **"The other attempts have been less-than-successful, so no."** The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. He REALLY didn't want to have another dosage of cyanide, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to take another.

"Will they both survive?"

 **"That's still pending."** The gleam in his eyes was disorienting, like he enjoyed their helplessness. **"I suppose it's up to me..."** He taunted.

"Two left, we both get one." The Doctor nodded in response, putting on his glasses to try and help himself stay focused on what counted, shoving his emotions into a corner to deal with later.

"Do you know why the Dalek is afraid of me?" The maniac grin faltered for a minute.

 **"That's been a bit of a mystery to me..."** He admitted. The victory, however, was short-lived. **"Even if you are dangerous, you won't do anything as long as I have Donna, will you?"** The Doctor growled deeply in the back of his throat, a noise that he ususally tried to keep from making with his projection enabled, as it caused more than a few sideways glances. Turning to Sherlock, he realized that it had done exactly what it always did.

"Did you just growl at him?" The tips of his ears glowed bright red.

"Maybe..." Sherlock half-smiled at him before getting back on track.

"Is it going to be as difficult as the others?" The killer chuckled, leaning forward. That's when it all clicked. That's when The Doctor realized exactly who he was staring at.

" _Moriarty_ , I need you to answer!" He snapped. He should've known better! He had read the books, why had that taken so long?

 **"You wouldn't believe how hard it's going to get."** With that, the display clicked off, leaving nothing but a timer for ten minutes.

Sherlock turned to face the alien next to him.

"When did you start calling him Moriarty?"

* * *

The Doctor's face fell, refusing to meet his eyes. "In fact," He continued. "You seem to know quite a lot about me." The Doctor sighed.

"Remember how I said I was from another world?" Sherlock nodded. "Well..." He trailed off, gazing into the far corner of the medbay. "You aren't exactly..."

"I'm not real, am I?" His tone of voice was soft. "That's why Donna didn't believe me when I said I was Sherlock Holmes." The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. "I'm a work of fiction..."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock smiled softly.

"It's not your fault." Thoughts raced through his head at a breakneck pace, each one more dizzying than the last. "What..." The Doctor tucked his glasses back into his pocket, still not looking at him. "What do people think of me?" He finally asked.

"That's what you want to know?" Sherlock shrugged.

"I can't change the fact that I don't exist in your world." The Doctor leaned back slightly.

"Well, they think you're brilliant. Though a bit of a jerk at times." Sherlock sighed.

"I suppose it can seem that way at times... What of Molly and John?"

"Molly... Molly doesn't exist." Sherlock sat bolt upright.

"What do you mean?"

"Our worlds are bound to be different in some ways."

"That's true." The Doctor began to search his pockets, pulling out a paperback novel.

"John's actually the one telling your tale in the book." He thumbed through it, eyes darting across the pages. Sherlock leaned in his direction, trying to read some of the words inscribed. Upon noticing this, The Doctor snapped the book shut.

"What was that for?" The Doctor touched the side of his nose.

"Spoilers. Don't know what you've done yet!" Setting the book down next to him, he pulled out the sonic screwdriver, inspecting it closely.

"Did you manage to lock onto his signal?" The Doctor hit it against his palm a few times.

"I'm going to go with no." He then directed his attention back to the bandage wrapped around his shoulder, poking at it a little. "I can take that off you now if you want." Sherlock nodded, watching with morbid curiosity as the bloodied bandage peeled off his skin, revealing a circular scar.

"That's impossible!" The Doctor smiled.

"Welcome to my world. You should be fine, that was just a small dosage." Sherlock frowned.

"What do you mean by 'should be'?" The Doctor stood.

"Well, it can cause vivid hallucinations and sometimes, sleep paralasis, body spasms..." Sherlock paled. The Doctor frantically backpedaled. "Don't worry, that doesn't affect humans as much as it affects things like me."

"You're sure about that?" The Doctor nodded.

"Don't worry about it. You'll be fine." Sherlock stole a glance at the timer.

 **5:00**

"Any idea as to who he's targeting next?" The detective shook his head.

"The game of twenty questions wasn't exactly all that useful." The Doctor began to stick the book back in his pocket.

"Is there anything I should know? Anything that you know that could help us in the slightest?"

"Not really. The books take place in the eighteenth century, so nothing like this could really happen."

 **2:50**

"Really? Eighteenth century?" The Doctor nodded.

"Yup!" Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself in a setting like that. It seemed so absurd, and yet... It sounded... Right somehow, like it would be normal to find himself in such an old fashioned setting.

 **1:36**

"There can't be too many puzzles left, he has less than a day left, and something tells me that he has some grand 'Final Puzzle' for us." The Doctor nodded his agreement.

 **1:00**

"At least there's no more poison..." He remarked dryly.

"That's positive." Shelrock mumbled, an equal amount of enthusiasm in his voice.

 **0:25**

 **0:15**

They could do it. They HAD to do it.

 **0:05**

 **0:00**

The video played in the unsettling fashion they had both grown used to, neither of them quite able to get over the fact that their friends were being victimized.

 **"Welcome back to my little game, boys!"** Donna looked quite a bit worse for the wear, the forced cheery tone in her voice making it all the more uncomfortable. **"I'm going to get straight to the point this time!"** The video flickered to show John, the state of him enough to make Sherlock clench his fists. The video began to cut between them more frequently.

 **"You have an hour to figure out something based on this riddle, and stop what it speaks of! Simple enough for you?"**

 **"Good. Listen closely!"**

 _ **"A waste of space in a certain mind, wants to be clever although most find, that inside his head it's rather dull, not much going on at all."**_

"Did he just rhyme dull and all?" Questioned The Doctor.

"I wouldn't call that rhyming."

 ** _"But in a library not far away, something will change this idiot's day. Shelves are unstable, blood on the ground, a crushed corpse soon will be found."_**

 **"You have an hour. Good luck!"**

Sherlock and The Doctor both sprang to their feet in perfect sync.

"Nearest library?"

"Not sure." They began rushing down the corridor, The Doctor dropping his projection mid-stride in order to get there faster, tail nearly knocking the detective off his feet. The Doctor continued to fire questions at Sherlock as they burst into the console room.

"Any idea who the target-"

"Anderson."

"Method of death is going to be a bookshelf, any idea when exactly he'll be arriving?"

"I have no idea what his personal scedule is and really don't care to find out." The Doctor fiddled with various levers and buttons, using his four legs to better steady himself.

"Right!" Grabbing the monitor with his tail, he swung it around and into view. "Closest library, Church Street, five minutes away!" The two of them didn't stop running as they flung open the main doors of the TARDIS and dashed out onto the street, The Doctor taking a few steps into the light before hastily throwing on his projection. "Whic-"

"This way." Between each step, another way that this could all go horribly wrong sprung into Sherlock's head. But so did another reason to push himself harder, to perservere! He could do it. He had to. For John.

* * *

Moriarty bounced on the balls of his feet with glee, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was breaking them, slowly, but surely. They were coming apart at the seams and he got to watch every painful moment. His captives had been... Less than agreeable. That being said, they were finally starting to lose spirit, like a balloon that had a small hole. Not enough to pop it, but enough to make it slowly deflate. A grin lit up his features. The pair of hostages were sitting upright again, though neither of them were speaking. Both staring off into their respective corners without saying a word. Their eyes, however, said it all. They wanted to be free. They wanted to have hope, but just like that balloon, it was seeping out of them, draining them until they had nothing left. The icing on the cake for Jim, however, was just how much worse it was going to get. Clasping his hands together in glee, he strode down the corridor, deciding to make a few last minute calls with his assassin.


	12. Torn Pages

**I'm BAAA-AAACK! Well, for those of you who have been sticking with me for this ridiculous excuse for a story, thanks for your patience. Really. I know you've needed quite a lot of it. Anyway, this chapter includes a few scenes I've wanted for a while now, so enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock's scarf streamed out behind him as they took to the street, The Doctor close on his heels, coat billowing in the wind. Sherlock suddenly veered off to the side, shouting hastily over his shoulder.

"This way!" The alien followed without hesitation, nearly running into an unfortunate couple stopped at a street corner. Mumbling a quick sorry, he continued running. They reached the library in less than three minutes, not even stopping to breathe as they pushed open the glass doors. Quietly, they began searching for Anderson.

The librarian sighed. Something told her that they weren't going to be the quietest customers.

"Been a while since I've been in an Earth library." The Doctor ran his fingers along the spines of the books absently. Sherlock didn't respond, causing The Doctor to continue with his story. "Y'know, I almost died last time I was in a library. Well, I say library... More like an entire planet devoted to books. Remind me to pick a better year next time." Sherlock tried to tune him out, but The Doctor persisted in a tone that, in Sherlock's mind, only existed to annoy him. "Donna almost died then too..." He mumbled. "Blimey, I need to be more careful about where we end up."

"You could say that." The Doctor chuckled.

"We made it out in the end. Just a reminder that I've gotten out of worse situations than this one." Sherlock continued scanning the shelves, looking for any tip-off as to what exactly was deadly about a library. He didn't look away from his work as he attempted to make conversation.

"What was so deadly about that library?"

"The shadow aliens." He stated matter-of-factly. _Right._ Sherlock wasn't sure if The Doctor was messing with him or not.

He decided that either way, he didn't really want to find out. The Doctor, however, didn't shut his gob. "You've got them here on Earth, or, at least on mine." Sherlock decided that talking was one of the few things that the alien was interested in.

"You refer to Earth as if it's your own, and yet something tells me it's hardly your planet of origin." The Doctor nodded approvingly, thumbing through a book at a lightning fast pace as he began speaking.

"Correctamundo." He winced. "Knew there was a reason I stopped saying that... Anyway, my planet." He sighed, stuffing the book back in its rightful place, suddenly looking very far away. "It was called Gallifrey."

"Past tense?" He nodded wordlessly.

"You might've liked it." He mumbled, taking a few rapid steps deeper into the building. Sherlock didn't say anything, knowing that The Doctor would fill the silence with the sound of his own voice, as he tended to do when he was nervous. "Red grass, silver trees, beautiful mountains..." He then proceeded to ramble for what seemed like a small eternity, chattering on and on about how there were glass domes that looked like snowglobes, and how when the light hit them just the right way, beautiful colors would explode in all directions, covering the city in a golden light.

The way he talked about it made Sherlock frown. Judging by the tone of voice he took when he spoke of it, he was part of the reason why it was referred to in the past tense. Sherlock scanned the alien as he continued his ramble, watching how he seemed like he was in another time altogether, faraway eyes, unconscious gestures that made Sherlock realize just how insecure he really was about his planet of origin.

The Doctor's hands tugged at his collar, readjusting his tie for what had to be the millionth time.

 _Insecure._

Sherlock cut him off mid-sentence with a question.

"What happened?" The Doctor laughed mirthlessly.

"What didn't happen?" That's when it all clicked.

"What did you do?"The alien stiffened and sighed, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"Burned it." He mumbled, turning his back on the detective, staring off down the row of books. "All of it, a whole planet, gone." He clenched his fists against his sides. Sherlock watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took some deep breaths. "My fault." He laughed mirthlessly, still walking forward without looking back. Sherlock followed, though not too closely, not wanting to have The Doctor turn on him in anger.

"I-" He trailed off, stunned by the sudden realization that he had absolutely no idea what to say. None in the least.

He knew that his apologies had reached the alien's ears at least a thousand times over the years. He knew that it probably wouldn't even make a dent in his mental blockade surrounding the subject. He stayed quiet as The Doctor continued walking, his long strides carrying him into the maze of a building.

"I used to think I wasn't the only survivor." He peered through a gap between some books. "Maybe there'd be someone else." He turned sharply around a corner. "There was one other survivor..." He stopped in the corridor, speaking the next part as if even he didn't want to hear it. "Now there's only me." He cleared his throat and abruptly began walking again. "That doesn't really matter right now, though!" He remarked cheerfully, prompting several other people in the building to shoot him fearsome glares, daring him to speak again.

He didn't even flinch.

Instead, he pulled out his reading glasses and began to examine the shelves. His eyes suddenly widened and he drew back with a slightly stunned expression. He began muttering to himself wildly, words shooting from his mouth at a million miles per-hour.

"What?" The Doctor let out a high pitched whine.

"That's not bloody fair!" He proceeded to duck under one of the shelves, attracting a few odd looks from bystanders, one girl shooting him a particularly nasty glare when a few books tumbled from their places.

The Doctor remained absolutely oblivious, continuing to examine the shelf on the bottom. Without warning, he sprang up and dashed down the corridor, sonic screwdriver now in hand, scanning shelves in a frenzy.

"What is it?!" If the alien heard the detective he didn't respond. Instead, he examined the readings on his screwdriver, one hand flying through his wild hair as he tried to process the information in front of him. He stuck the sonic in his pocket. A grim expression began to show on his face.

"You're clever." Although the words were a complement, they were hardly spoken like one. He practically spat the pair of words, almost hissing, or growling. He was about to dash off again when Sherlock grabbed his wrist. The two met eyes.

"Doctor, what the hell is going on?!" He whisper-shouted.

"Everything."

"What do you mean everything?!" The Doctor pulled away from him, continuing to inspect the shelves.

"All of these shelves are traps." He gestured widely to the array of books. Sherlock frowned.

"What do you mean, 'all the shelves are traps?'" The Doctor knelt, waggling his fingers in a 'come hither' type motion. Cautiously, Sherlock bent down next to him.

"See those hinges?" Sherlock nodded. "Look closer." The detective obliged.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until it suddenly dawned on him.

"Why would a bookshelf need hinges on the bottom?" The Doctor grinned.

"Exactly." Sherlock stood, surveying the shelves with unease, as I'm sure you would too if you knew that they could easily flip and kill you. "All of them are connected through remote controls, any one of them could kill-"

"Kill who?" Sherlock and The Doctor both leaped to their feet, startling the man behind them. Sherlock paled when he saw who it was.

"Oh, hello Anderson." He made sure to put an extra emphasis on the name of the man, making sure that The Doctor would catch it. The alien's eyes widened with realization. He and Sherlock shared a panicked glance before the man cut in.

"What're you doing here?" Sherlock glared at him.

"None of your business." The Doctor nodded.

"Quite right." Anderson frowned, sizing up The Doctor, almost curious.

"Who's he?" Sherlock hesitated.

"A... A friend." The Doctor grinned cheekily.

"Hullo, I'm The Doctor." He stuck out his hand, the other still clasped around the sonic screwdriver. Anderson slowly shook The Doctor's hand, frowning, but not questioning him. The man held a stack of books under his arm, causing Sherlock to narrow his eyes.

"Why are you reading books on detectives?" Anderson shrugged.

"May as well educate myself, I'm around you enough, I should know a little about you." Sherlock scoffed. The Doctor hid a smile.

"Do you really think those will help?" Again, the man shrugged.

"Maybe. Not sure, haven't read them yet." He made to leave, taking a few steps before seeming to realize who he was talking to. "What're you doing here?" Sherlock grit his teeth.

"I'm allowed to visit the library, aren't I?" He snapped, causing the other man to flinch.

"I suppose." He smiled at The Doctor. "Well, I'll be going then." The Doctor made to tail him but Sherlock stopped him.

"Let him think he's lost us." The Doctor nodded, beginning to silently sort through his pockets, occasionally pulling out some odd item. Sherlock watched in confusion as items that looked much too big to be in a pocket were pulled out before being promptly stuffed back in again. Finally, he pulled out an ancient looking gold chain, a huge watch attached to the end of it, ticking away to itself. He popped it open with a flourish.

"We have twenty minutes."

"Where were you keeping that?" The Doctor snapped it shut.

"My pocket."

"It fit?" His face broke into a goofy grin.

"Bigger on the inside!" With that, he slowly began pacing after Anderson, looking quite a bit like a predator on the prowl. Every now and then, he'd pick up a book and leaf through it. Sherlock noted each response he made.

"Love this one."

"Oh, didn't see that coming!"

"That's sad..."

"Hah!"

"Why would you write that!?"

(His voice was about an octave too high for the last one.)

The Doctor suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Sherlock nearly bumped into his back at the sudden stop, catching himself just before colliding with the TimeLord.

"Anderson." He whispered.

"How many shelves?" The Doctor whipped out the sonic and scanned the area, the whirring noise causing a few more angry looks to be cast in their direction.

"Seven." Sherlock exhaled shakily. Slowly, they rounded the corner. Anderson's nose was stuck in a book, fingers tapping on the table as he scanned the words printed on the crisp white paper. He was completely absorbed in the book.

The Doctor was the first to make a move, casually pulling a book from the shelf and plopping down in one of the few free chairs. A couple of readers shifted away from him. Lazily, he propped his feet up on the desk and began leafing through it.

Anderson didn't even look up. Sherlock checked the wall clock.

 **Ten minutes.**

His heart started pounding. They'd wasted ten bloody minutes tailing him. The Doctor suddenly looked up and made eye contact with the detective. Much to his surprise, he shot him a wink, mouthing the words.

 _I got this._

Sherlock frowned.

 _What?_

The Timelord repeated himself, putting an extra emphasis on his lip movements.

 _I've got this._

Sherlock felt his heart start to pound as he forced himself to do nothing but watch as the seconds passed. The Doctor yawned. Anderson looked up, seeming surprised, though not alarmed. Sherlock ducked back behind the shelf when Anderson looked in his direction.

He didn't want to risk anything. He listened as Anderson shuffled around for

"Why is your book upside-down?" Sherlock felt his heart sink. The Doctor, much to his surprise, responded without missing a beat.

"Improves my brain power. Makes me work harder." Sherlock chanced a look back at the two of them. The Doctor was thumbing through his lopsided book, snatching glances at Anderson every few seconds.

A reader next to them steadied her hand on the book she was holding. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Her glasses were slightly askew across her freckled face, chipped blue nail polish clinging to her fingers for dear life. A strand of brown hair was twirled around one of her fingers, blue eyes lazily skimming the pages.

Sherlock looked closer. Her head was down, meaning that she was either tired or scared. The bags under her eyes suggested both. Her hands shook slightly. Her feet tapped on the hardwood floor. Every now and then, her gaze would shoot over in the direction of The Doctor. Her grip would always tighten afterward.

A light reflected in her glasses.

Sherlock paled.

The light was coming from the book. He shook his head and blinked a few times, but it didn't change.

This was the assassin?

She suddenly locked eyes with him, pupils dilated with fear. She took a few deep breaths and tried to give him a smile. It looked more like a wince. Suddenly, she jumped about a foot in the air, frantically fumbling with the book in her grasp.

Sherlock watched as The Doctor suddenly jerked upright. Sherlock's head ached as he tried to look at both the alien and the assassin. He suddenly caught sight of something shiny in The Doctor's hand.

The disc.

He sprung to his feet in a flash of movement. The young girl slammed the book down on the table.

"MOVE!" The Doctor's cry reached him just before a huge crash echoed through the building. The Timelord barreled into him, knocking him out of the way of the bookshelf as it slammed into the ground mere inches from him. Anderson collapsed atop the back of the alien, bewildered expression on his face.

Sherlock watched from his position on the floor as the girl booked it to the next section of the library. He turned to The Doctor.

"Keep him safe." He ordered. The Doctor nodded.

Sherlock bolted after the girl, leaping over a small table with a flourish. She ducked down around a corner and continued without halt, book pressed to her chest, shoulders heaving. He continued gaining on her heels, her gasping breaths telling him that he was making progress.

The shelves suddenly ended. She skidded to a halt, whirling around to face him on shaking knees. She raised the book in front of her like a shield.

"O-One wrong m-m-move and we're dead!" She choked out. Sherlock almost smiled.

"Admit it, you wouldn't." She backed into the wall as the detective advanced. Suddenly, as if a lightswitch went off inside her head, she tossed the book over the shelf and promptly scaled it, tearing off in the direction of Anderson and The Doctor. Sherlock cursed rather loudly, sprinting as he tried to give chase.

Another crash echoed through the building.

 _Damn it!_

She had beaten him there. He rounded the corner to nearly collide with Anderson and The Doctor, but he wasted no time in falling in step with them.

"The girl..." He panted. "Her book... Triggers it..." The Doctor's gaze darkened. He looked so much more alien than he usually did and Sherlock couldn't help but shudder at the sheer lack of emotion.

"BACK!" The three fell backward as a shelf came toppling down in front of them. They were on their feet in a snap, backpedaling to the area with the table they had started in. The girl stood in the middle of the room with the book open.

In that moment, two things happened. Sherlock leaped at her in a flying tackle just as she pushed the button. The book fell from her hands. They looked at each other before both lungings for it. Sherlock's reach was longer than hers and he snatched it out of her hands, pulling it close to his chest.

At that same moment, a shelf slammed down atop Anderson and The Doctor.

Sherlock spun round, heart hammering in his ears. The shelf quivered. Sherlock watched as Anderson was seemingly flung out from beneath it, The Doctor tumbling out behind him, red faced and breathing heavily. He half-crawled half-dragged himself out to meet the detective.

"Protected him." He mumbled.

He promptly collapsed in a heap.

The Doctor was the least of Sherlock's worries. The young girl shakily slumped against one of the shelves, head in her hands. Sherlock was about to go and yell at her for everything she had put them through when The Doctor decided to intervene.

He limped over to the girl and delicately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She buried her face into his jacket and sobbed quietly. Sherlock backed up, ignoring Anderson's shaky comments along the lines of: "I saw a dragon!" to let The Doctor comfort the young girl.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The Doctor let her curl up against his side and cry freely, her glasses in his hand as she let out her emotions.

"I'm so sorry." He pulled her closer.

"It's alright."

Sherlock took a deep breath to calm his temper. It wasn't alright. She had tried to murder them! Was that detail slipping The Doctor's mind?!

"No, it's not." She mumbled, pulling away. "I- I shouldn't be doing this!" The Doctor shifted so they weren't making contact. She suddenly laughed hollowly. "Look at me. Crying on the shoulder of a stranger." She put her head in her hands. "God, I'm pathetic."

"You're not." She lifted her head slightly.

"I only did this to you 'cause he had my sister. He let me talk to her today." Her voice broke, but she didn't stop. "He gave me the stupid book. Told me how to use it. I was supposed to kill the lot of you." She was shaking badly now and stumbling over his words. She balled up tighter against the shelf. "He's going to kill either me or her."

Sherlock didn't have the heart to tell her he'd kill them both without a second thought.

"No. He's not." The Doctor stood and began pacing. "You know why?" She looked almost hopeful.

"I-I can see Meggie again?" Tears started streaming down her face.

"I'm going to help you." He extended his hand. She reached up to take it, hope reflecting in her eyes.

The shelf creaked.

Neither of them reacted fast enough.

Sherlock watched in horror as the shelf crashed down on her. The sickening snap of bones and flesh made him want to be sick.

"NO!" The Doctor knelt next to the bookshelf. Blood seeped onto the floor from beneath it. The alien recoiled in shock, stance wide, hands clasped together. His shoulders shook. Sherlock took a step forward, the floorboard under him creaking loudly. The Doctor whirled on him, eyes flashing with fury.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?" Sherlock shrank back for a moment before his glare hardened.

"I didn't do a thing!" He hissed.

"You have the book!" The Doctor snarled, sounding much more like the beast he resembled. Sherlock was about to try and explain his innocence when the disc buzzed. The Doctor practically flung it to the ground, smashing the button on the top with a surprising amount of force. The holographic display flickered to life.

Stop bickering for the glory. It was me!

They stayed silent. Anderson finally cleared his throat.

"Are we going to talk about the dragon?" The Doctor glared at him.

"No."

"No," Sherlock confirmed. He then looked to The Doctor. "We should get going." His tone stayed harsh. The Doctor nodded.

"Yeah." His gaze flicked to Anderson. "Nice meeting you."

* * *

The Doctor's shoulder blades felt like they were trying to leap free of his back as he dashed back to the flat. His back ached from where the shelf had slammed down on him and Anderson.

But that wasn't what he was so torn up about.

Images of the girl flashed through his head as he ran. Her tearstained eyes. Her shaking limbs. She had trusted him and paid the price.

Saving Anderson hadn't even been a conscious decision, he had had to, to save himself. Throwing off his projection and hauling him out of danger was just instinct. He put himself in harm's way for others so often, it was just becoming second nature.

But not her.

Taunted a small voice.

You don't even know her name and she's going to haunt you for as long as you live.

He could hear Sherlock calling out to him from behind and quickened his pace. He knew deep down that the death wasn't something he could run away from forever. His mind began to replace the mangled body of the young girl with Donna, the very real possibility of her being dead tormenting him to no end.

 _Hang on._

 _Please don't be dead._

He fumbled with the locked door for a moment, trying to ignore the rage building in the pit of his stomach. He hit the door, letting his hand fall uselessly at his side.

 _Useless._

 _You can never save them._

 _Remember what happened to Ro-_

He cut off his thoughts and felt hot tears pricking at the backs of his eyes along with a tightness in his throat. He shook his head to try and clear his head, digging his free hand deep into his pocket. They connected with a pair of glasses that he knew at once weren't his.

He shakily pulled them out.

Pink and blue swirled frames greeted him along with a chipped lens. They had been hers, without a doubt. He gingerly folded them and returned them to his pocket.

He didn't need anything to distract him from what he had to do.

Taking one last deep breath of cool London air he turned the key in the lock and let the door fall open. He delicately sat on the sofa, leaning back and placing the disc on the floor.

His head hurt.

The door was slowly shut behind him, the detective's shuffling steps plodding into the open room. The Doctor didn't look up as the other man plopped down next to him with a small sigh. The silence between them grew to an uncomfortable level that steadily increased and intensified.

Sherlock was the first to break the silence.

"It's not your fault."

"It is." The Doctor stretched out a little, letting the noisy creaking mask the second half of his sentence. "It always is..." If Sherlock heard, he didn't comment. The disc on the floor tormented them to no end, Sherlock finally standing.

"Should I-" The Doctor waved his hand idly.

"Go for it." He propped his chin on his hands, his converses tapping nervously on the floor. The familiar noise of television static erupted from the small device. The Doctor covered his ears.

Sherlock stumbled back onto the couch with his eyes wide in shock.

" **DiD You ReAllY thInK YOu cOuLD sAve HeR**?"

It was the voice of the killer. The volume fluctuated uncontrollably, radio static engulfing each and every word. It suddenly flared.

" **ToO BaD**!"

The Doctor suddenly snapped.

"Why did you do that?" The static fizzled out. "Answer me, Moriarty!" He roared, rising to his feet. Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"Doctor." The Doctor wrenched his hand away.

"She didn't have to die!" They both recoiled from the small device when a video - along with a roar of static - exploded through the room.

Moriarty's maniac grin lit the screen. His eyes were full of absolute glee.

The Doctor felt sick to his stomach.

" **Both of you survived my little trial, how interesting, is it not**?"

"You didn't have to kill her!"

" **She was going to give you information. I couldn't afford that getting out**." He clenched his fists. Sherlock stood next to him.

"Breathe." He whispered.

The Doctor took a few deep breaths.

In.

 _Donna could be dead right now._

Out.

 _You would never know._

"Would you like the next task or not?" The question caught them both off guard. Sherlock took the decision out of the alien's hands.

"What do we have to do?"

" **I believe there's an _instructional_ video**." The disc turned itself off for a moment. The Doctor fell back onto the couch. He placed his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, shuffling his feet restlessly beneath him. Shakily, he took a few more calming breaths, filling his lungs with air, clearing his head of thoughts of her mangled corpse.

"Welcome back boys."

His head whipped up as Donna addressed him. His feet moved seemingly of their own accord, pulling him closer and closer to the disc from which her voice resonated.

She was in a sorry state.

His hearts sank to his shoes.

Eyes usually full of spirit looked dead inside, red hair in shambles, bags under her eyes.

Something inside of him snapped.

" **As you may know, our assassin had a little sister. Some co-ordinates are being sent to you as of now. Find her. Save her**." The image flickered, replacing her with John.

" **The catch? She's unconscious. She can't even cry out**."

" **You get two hours starting now**."

The display flicked off. The screwdriver was in his hand in a snap. He fiddled with the light on the top and pointed it at the disc, immediately locking onto the coordinates.

"Where is it?" The Doctor glared at the sonic.

"I don't know." He dropped his projection. "But I'm going to find out." He didn't even turn around to see if Sherlock would follow. He knew that the detective would.

He pushed open the TARDIS doors with a clawed hand and made a beeline for the console, jamming his screwdriver into the console and eyeballing the monitor. A location popped up along with a set of directions. He didn't even flinch when the doors creaked open behind him, though one of his ears flipped back to listen.

"Did you figure it ou-"

"Aldwych tube station." He rounded on the man, making sure his tail didn't knock him off his feet.

"How far?" The Doctor put his head down, hackles raised.

"About eleven minutes." He growled in frustration, spinning back around to face the TARDIS controls. His ship knew something was wrong with him. Sherlock stepped back. He paced over to the doors, tail thrashing furiously. He threw on his projection in a huff, running a hand through his messy hair.

He could practically feel Sherlock's eyes burning into his back as if to ask why exactly they weren't dashing to the rescue.

"Doctor." The Doctor stiffened. Sherlock sighed heavily and The Doctor could hear him shuffling in his direction. "Listen-" He hesitated as if the words were hard for him to say aloud. He took another deep breath. "You can't save everyone, but you-" A hand was placed on his shoulder. "You can save her."

The tension flooded out of the alien.

"I-I can." He turned back to Sherlock. "You're right." The detective wore a smug expression.

"Course I am." The Doctor was suddenly struck with a dizzyingly mad idea, though to be honest, he had had an almost obscene amount of them in the past day. The gleam in his eyes must've been quite bright, as Sherlock frowned.

The projection fell.

"Scared of heights?" Sherlock shook his head. The Doctor grinned. "Fancy a flight?"

"In broad daylight?" The Doctor shrugged.

"Suppose."

"Won't you get seen?" Sherlock sounded genuinely concerned. Again, the Timelord shrugged.

"Not my universe." There was a beat of silence, then-

"Fine. Meet me on the roof." The doors swung open, and the detective was gone. The Doctor's mouth quirked upwards. He took a few steps back from the console before letting his projection fall.

A small pang on his right shoulder caused him to shudder. Flying was going to be a bit of a challenge.

(It's a disaster, but that comes later.)

He stood stock-still for a few seconds, making sure to keep his breathing even as wings snapped to attention at his sides. He tried not to stumble as another jolt of pain shot through his right side.

He flared them and gave them an experimental flap, rearing up on his hind legs from the force of the wind created. Satisfied, he brought back his projection and sauntered out of the doors, keeping a causal appearance to try and ward off the feeling of unease building in his gut.

Sherlock stood facing the road, hands clasped together behind his back as he surveyed the streets. The Doctor slowly moved to stand beside him, looking down on the mostly empty road, a few stragglers with umbrellas and shopping bags wandering the London street, completely unaware of what they would see if they only looked upward.

"Ready?" Sherlock turned his head to look the Timelord in the eye.

"Do you know where you're going?" The Doctor wiggled his hand in a so-so motion.

"Mostly." Before Sherlock could get another word in, he stepped back from the ledge and let his scaly self come into full view, striped wings neatly folded, looking like a ruffled umbrella stuck on his back.

Sherlock eyed them warily.

"Can you even support the two of us?" He whipped them open as far as they would go, ignoring the jolt of pain from his shoulder.

"If I can fly with Donna, I can hold you." He hesitated for a moment. "You- You won't squirm or anything?" Sherlock nearly smiled.

"No, I don't think I'll be doing any of that." The Doctor grinned.

"Brilliant." He then lowered his body to the ground, wings sweeping the rooftop, tail curling around his clawed feet. "Hop on." He lowered his head.

"Just-" He gestured to The Doctor's back with a frown, clearly trying to ask about the best way of getting on.

"Try not to get my right side. Bookshelf hit hard."

"Got it." A hand was gingerly laid on his side, the other one lacing itself through his mane, gripping tightly. The Doctor stood, shifting to allow Sherlock to better slide over his back. He shook himself once to try and get a sense of how heavy Sherlock was.

"You ready?" Sherlock latched his arms around The Doctor's neck.

"Ready." The Doctor took a few steps back, feeling Sherlock grip more firmly. Taking one last deep breath of air, he dashed for the edge of the building and hurled himself off the ledge.

* * *

The ropes itched. Donna squirmed against her restraints for what had to be the millionth time in that hour. The gag, she was finding, was incredibly dusty, and made her throat scratch whenever she inhaled.

Her time was almost up.

She couldn't tell for sure just how long it had been, the darkness surrounding her making telling time nearly impossible. All she could do was try not to go insane. Try to hold onto the hope that The Doctor would pull through.

Even though she had been in mortal danger nearly every day since meeting The Doctor, this time... This time felt more real somehow. Maybe it was the lack of sunlight speaking for her, but the sheer amount of terror she had felt outmatched that of facing down aliens any day.

Maybe it was the malicious gleam in the eyes of the man who had torn every shred of hope from her.

Maybe it was the fact that John was more than willing to stay and wait for rescue.

Maybe it was the little girl named Meg.

Donna tried to fight back tears that pricked at her eyes, even though she knew it was pointless. After all, nobody would see them in the darkness engulfing her. She wasn't even sure if John was there anymore.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing, and her own. She almost cried right then and there, a barrage of feelings she had tried to hold back for so long nearly overwhelming her in the darkness.

Meg couldn't have been more than seven years old at the most, almost immediately latching onto Donna as if she was a life preserver.

A tight knot of guilt formed in her throat as she recalled the young girl.

 _"He said he killed my sister."_

 _She had whimpered into Donna's ear, trembling against her side. Donna had drawn her closer as well as she could with her hands behind her back._

 _"It's going to be alright, we're going to get out of here." She had tried to sound confident, tried to keep the quiver out of her voice. " What's your name, love?"_

 _"Meg."_

 _"Alright then Meg, listen to me. There's a man, an absolutely remarkable man called The Doctor. And at this very second, he's working his very hardest to try and get to us. And he's mad, absolutely, insanely, wonderfully mad." The young girl sniffed._

 _"A-And he'll save us?" Donna smiled softly._

 _"Yeah. He's completely daft sometimes, but I-"They made eye contact. "I trust him completely."_

She, of course, had wanted to know about him, which is what led to Donna sharing a few stories about their adventures. She could tell John was listening. She didn't know when she nodded off, or even how, though she suspected that her lack of sleep had something to do with it. She heard John stir beside her.

"You awake?" She mumbled.

"Yeah." He returned. His voice was soft, tired sounding. They sat in silence.

Donna knew that they were both thinking of a certain little blonde haired girl. "You know, I don't actually know you that well." John mused.

"Same here." She tried to sound cheery. She really tried.

 _How much longer?_

Taunted a small voice.

 _How much longer do you wait for him?_

 _What if he never comes back?_

Another voice began to reason with the doubtful one.

 ** _He'll come. He's going to save you._**

 _What if he doesn't?_

"Do you wanna go first, or should I?" She almost jumped at the sound of John's voice.

"With what?"

"Well, we know nothing about each other."

"So?"

"We could-" His voice broke off in a sigh. "It sounds completely daft..." She almost smiled.

"Are you suggesting we should try and get to know each other?"

"That's- That's sort of what I was getting at, yeah."

There was a beat of silence before Donna cleared her throat, speaking in an almost uncharacteristically quiet tone.

"I've been to Pompeii, once." She could've sworn she saw him smile.

"I walked in on Sherlock and a naked woman." She snorted, feeling the tension in the room slowly started to decrease.

"I missed my own wedding."

"Everyone thinks I'm gay." Donna grinned.

"Are you?" He backpedaled furiously.

"No, no, ha, God no..."

"Riiiiiiiiiiight..."


End file.
